Happily Married
by J moon
Summary: Minna finally got tired of waiting and proposed outright to Mio. However, they are going to learn that walking down the aisle usually is only the beginning of the troubles. Latest Chapter up. Warning, some lime content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 The Confession

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 1: Confession**

"I love you, please marry me!"

Sakamoto Mio, second in command of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing blinked as she played over the proposition mentally while staring at source of it, her old friend and commander, a certain Minna Dietlinde-Wilkes who had quite literally kicked opened the door, kneeled down and presented to her a diamond ring before popping her question.

THE question as a matter of fact. It slowly dawned on Mio that the person she had shared her life with for the past few years had in fact asked to spend the rest of their years together in holy matrimony.

Minna wanted for them to tie the knot together, to raise a family and begin a whole new line of Witches to better to defend humanity. Following a more lewd and family unfriendly train of thought, Minna wanted for them to, legally and openly, bang like animals every other night, to keep their neighbours awake every night with their cries and moans while they find new and creative ways for their equipment to enter places it was never meant to... Mio blushed heavily as she stopped that train dead in it's tracks.

In short, it was a marriage proposal and it had completely caught her flat footed.

"Minna, I..." Mio struggled to find the words as she studied her old friend who was proposing to her. Her head was bowed, her eyes tightly shut while she was shivering in anticipation of what is to come. Familiar protective urges were aroused in Mio as she considered Minna's vulnerable form in stark contrast to her usual maternal visage. Mio was no stranger to situations when she had to protect the Karsland Witch and hated the times when she could not do so when it involved their superiors up the chain of command.

This time however, it was entirely up to her how this scenario will end. Mio wasn't completely blind to her commander's feelings for her, preferring to play dumb however as she had planned to go out in blaze of glory on the field. It wouldn't do to hurt Minna more than was needed.

Now however, she had found peace after the incident on the Yamato and was more than prepared to live out a rather uneventful life as an instructor in the Navy or even a desk job if needed. For her, the fighting days are effectively over.

This made her current predicament even more worrying for her as there won't be any convenient Neuroi to kill her off. She will have to be emotionally attached to Minna completely and utterly for the rest of her days. Somehow, Mio preferred facing a Super Neuroi hive alone. Or even a dozen of said hives with a toothbrush if needed.

Commitment to a cause or nation was so much easier than to a living breathing person who she cared about so much her heart literally aches when rejected by her or seeing her in any way unhappy. Nations and ideology do not wilt away and turn into a shadow of themselves when the other half when the object of affection inevitably leaves.

Sakamoto Mio had seen her own mother, a formidable woman who was passed over by the magic of the Sakamoto line and developed an impervious and steely persona to compensate for this perceived deficiency in a family famed for Witches serving with merit to the Fuso Empire, break down into wracking sobs at the death of her father.

The shock of seeing her stalwart and seemingly impervious mother's emotional reaction to the passing of her partner left an undeniable impact on Mio's own views towards romantic attachments towards others. The thought of leaving someone behind to such a fate or that she will be party to such pain...

The Fuso maiden was utterly determined that no one else should suffer as such due to her own passing. She had strenuously denied suitors where the attraction was openly shown and mimicked to perfection a density to love resembling a rock encased in cement when involving the not quite so subtle hints of amorous intention showed by Flight Officer Perrine Clostermann.

Minna however was one bullet she had failed to dodge mostly because there wasn't one initially. At the initial formation of the Strike Witches, Minna who was still getting over her dead boyfriend went as far as to bar non essential contact between the male personnel and the Witches that would serve in the 501st in a bid to prevent something similar happening to them.

Mio had felt a kindred spirit upon hearing that order, but grossly misjudged just how close they would be at the end of their tour together.

The half a year spent apart when the Strike Witches were disbanded at the liberation of Gallia failed to dampen their mutual attraction or affection for each other, and during the hours spent in their mutual office after the unit was reformed in Romanga, Mio had felt the other Witches gaze on her whenever her back was turned. It was a warm gentle feeling, one that Mio despite herself began to find she was relishing more and more.

The one thing that the eye patched Witch had sought to prevent from forming was beginning to take shape despite the best of her efforts and Mio found herself unwilling to do much about it.

Still, she tried desperately to prevent their relationship from going official until Minna's latest move ended any thoughts of said relationship with her remaining stagnant.

Sakamoto Mio, one of the Three Crows of the Fuso Sea, Maiden and Defender of the Empire had been prepared for death since she first took to the skies six years ago like a model samurai.

Now she faces something bushido or her upbringing had never prepared her for. A whole life ahead with the woman she loved. Death she was prepared to laugh in his face. Marriage on the other hand was something that she wasn't preparing to deal with so she decided on the only course of action she could think of.

The infamously suicidal and reckless Major Sakamoto Mio of the Fuso Navy froze on the spot while her mouth did a goldfish impression of opening and closing with no sound coming out of it.

At the same time, almost the entire 501st Joint Fighter Wing was huddled outside the corridor leading to Sakamoto's bunk, with Gertrude Barkhorn in rubber gloves pinning down a desperately struggling Perrine Clostermann.

The blonde was bound and gagged as a precaution against her interfering in the proposal while the remaining ladies of the 501st tried- and failed- to remain inconspicuous behind the door. The rubber gloves provided some protection against the Gallian Witch's magic while Gertrude's own superior mass and training kept her from barging in. Word that their commander was going to propose had somehow leaked to Perrine and she had stomped to Mio's bunk with her family's rapier.

Fearing the worse, the rest of the Strike Witches had intercepted her and hog tied her. Gertrude however, was not about to be denied seeing her comrade's important moment, so had dragged her quarry along.

Right now however, it wasn't her charge's struggles that occupied the Luftwaffe captain's attention however. Rather it was the impromptu mime impression of her sub commander that was raising her ire.

"Major! Quit dawdling and answer!" Gertrude barked, "Yes or no!"

The irritated reminder by Gertrude snapped Mio out of her stupor as she cleared her throat. Holding the redhead in her arms while looking at her in the face with a stern expression, Mio began,""Minna, I'm so...so..."

Minna froze as she heard the target of her affection seemingly rejecting her outright, "Please, don't say that...It is my fault for pressuring you." she whispered as she staggered up and turned around to leave.

"I'm so happy! Yes! Yes! A million times yes!" the Fuso witch grabbed Minna in a tight embrace before turning her around and planting a kiss on her lips.

The rest of the gathered witches broke into rapturous cheers and poured in to offer their congratulations while Gertrude gave a satisfied smile to the beaming couple. As she gave a satisfied sigh however, she noticed that the ropes were empty; Perrine had broken free and was standing in front of Minna and Mio, the air around her cracking with electricity while her blade was shaking in her right hand.

"Perrine, I cannot pretend to know how you are feeling right now, but please, stand down." Mio had quickly stood in front her partner before anyone else had noticed the Gallian witch's approach. It was a familiar feeling and situation for her, and Mio quickly regained her usual composure.

"Minna Dietlinde-Wilkes, please accept my surrender!" Perrine held her blade with both hands before infusing it with a jolt of electricity and snapping it in half. Slumping to her knees, she looked at the couple in front of her.

"Surrender? I don't quite get you, Perrine." stated a now very confused Minna.

"For twenty generations, the Clostermann family had never failed to woo the desired target of our affections." declared the blonde. "As the first to ever to be bested, I can only offer you my broken sword as a sign of surrender."

Perrine then started bawling at the top of her voice. She knew it was pretty hopeless that Mio ever had any romantic intentions towards her, the obliviousness something too incompatible with the major's usual mental sharpness. Still, to see her one sided crush completely ended was still a blow she couldn't prepare for. As she continued wailing, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see the gentle face of Lynette Bishop, one of her closer colleagues, "It's alright, Perrine. Let it all out. "she whispered gently.

The blond resumed her crying as she buried her face into the Britainnian girl's ample chest. This however, drew a cry of protest from Yoshika. "Hey, stop being so close to Lynne!" Perrine's response was to look up and snarl at her erstwhile rival, "Get lost, you uncouth racoon dog. I have no time to waste on you."

"Racoon? That's it!" Yoshika jumped on her and began to pull at her cheeks while Perrine did likewise, her earlier sadness seemingly forgotten.

"Okay, that's enough rough housing for today." Mio walked up to the brawling pair while clapping her hands, settling comfortably into her familiar role as disciplinarian. Looking at Perrine, she said, "Perrine, I will repair your sword and return it to you. You will find someone for yourself someday, and that blade will be a treasured gift for your children, just as it was for you."

"Major..."sniffed the blonde, touched at the gesture. Mio bent down and looked into her eyes. "You are a beautiful, fine young lady, Perrine Clostermann. First loves sadly tend to bittersweet with the bitterness typically at the end."

Mio began to straighten Perrine's frazzled hair, " Despair not however, for you are young and a real catch for anyone lucky enough to have you. "said Mio before kissing her on the forehead. The Fuso witch however did not seem to catch the irony of her statement. Hers too was a first love. Fate typically responds badly to temptation.

"Major..."Perrine threatened to bawl again before Mio placed a finger on her lips. Standing up and turning to address the gathered Witches, Mio said, "Now, thank you all for your well wishes! I have something to discuss with Commander Minna and require some time alone." Breaking into her trademark hearty laugh, she continued, " Thank you all for witnessing this precious moment. Now, if you will excuse us."

"Major..." the Gallian witch felt a firm hand grab her collar and begin dragging her out. "Come on, let's go." ordered Gertrude as she kept a death grip on the younger Witch before closing the door behind her.

"They're gone, Minna. "Mio turned towards her partner only to see a scowling face.

"I don't really find kissing Lieutenant Clostermann a very appropriate act, Major." fumed Minna as she puffed her cheeks.

Mio smiled at her partner's reaction, glad that Minna no longer felt the need to hide her emotions " She is opening up to me." thought Mio as she hugged Minna tightly.

"Mio!"exclaimed a shocked Minna before she was cut off with yet another kiss on the lips. "Time for our...meeting, Lieutenant Colonel Wilcke." whispered the Fuso Witch into her partner's ear before pushing her down onto the bed.

As the discussion lasted throughout the day, the rest of the 501st resolved to educate their commanders of the finer points of noise pollution.

* * *

...

It was a pleasant late summer afternoon as the sun shone on the lively streets of Santiago. The provisional capitol of the His Majesty the Kaiser's government in exile was a bustling hub of activity as it's native inhabitants roused from their after lunch siesta and began resuming their business. The sounds of hawkers shouting out their wares mingled with the roar of passing vehicles large and small. To a visitor fresh from Europe, the sight of multiple civilian vehicles sharing the roads with military ones would be a sight for sore eyes. With the Neuroi staying far away from both North and South Liberion, the tension felt in Europe was sorely lacking here in the New World.

Chancellor Franz von Papen however was anything but relaxed, despite being seated on a comfortable wicker chair and facing a wide open window where a gentle breeze blew in. Dressed in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his top two buttons open, the politician wore a simple pair of Bermuda shorts with the hem cuffed, a neutral observer should have no reason to guess Herr von Papen was extremely worried.

Of slight build and an elongated face, the chancellor sported a brush moustache and slicked back hair. His wide forehead was wrinkled with age and his hair a light grey with streaks of colour running through it. His eyes however, betrayed a sense of unease and worry.

Wiping his wrinkled forehead with a handkerchief, the chancellor reached for a glass of fruit juice on his desk even as he tried to enjoy the cool breeze. Furrowing his greyed eyebrows in worry, the tension evident on his face eased slightly as he heard a knock on the doors three times.

"Come in." von Papen straightened his shirt as he turned to face the opening door. A middle aged brunette man, dressed in a similar fashion to the chancellor walked in holding onto an envelope with a wax seal.

"Good afternoon, Chancellor." The younger man said simply as he broke the seal and removed a stack of papers from it. Handing it over to von Papen who took the proffered material with thanks, he stood at ease, waiting for further instruction.

The frown on the eyebrows of the aged politician returned with increased force as he looked over the papers. After a few minutes of browsing, he laid it on the desk and scowled, turning to the messenger as he did so.

"How accurate is the assessment of the situation?" The chancellor growled out in frustration as he reached for his now warming juice.

"As fair as anyone can get when the subject of study is a supposed conspiracy by the Witches, Excellency." The messenger shrugged. Noticing the scowl forming on the politician's face, he hastily explained, "Our resources are mostly focused on Witches in active service and high potential. We don't really wish to spend too much assets chasing shadows or rumours of a potential conspiracy of Witches planning a coup."

_Reigerung von Hexen. A government of Witches_, thought the older man as he glowered at the man in front of him. Throughout history, mass hysteria had often been linked to wild stories of the animal eared women rising up and imposing tyranny on the non magical populace. Such waves of violent persecution are often bloody and messy, leaving governments struggling to contain both the riots and the rumours.

Inevitably, it turns out to be unfounded. Witches are not supermen or superwomen for that matter. They died like all humans did, even if it took more to down a Witch than to down a man. Their limited numbers also further retards any possible takeover by them. Any rational man would take these factors into consideration and dismiss the spectre of a Witch taking over any nation of consequence to be scare mongering.

von Papen for one prided himself of being just the sort of rational man, who was not prone to superstitions or jumping to conclusions based on irrational fears. But the possibility of the old fear of the defenders of humanity becoming the rulers instead refused to die.

"It is the duty of the _Abwehr to_ be chasing shadows and rumours."The older man shot back at the representative of Imperial Karsland's intelligence.

The messenger resisted the urge to roll his eyes or snort and instead replied evenly. "The report is clear, Herr Chancellor. Several Witches deemed to be unfit for active duty due to advanced age or temperament issues have been deployed to form the new 66th Mechanised Witch Corp. Unorthodox to be sure, but at least they will still be under arms and military law instead of going renegade and disappearing into the underground."

Von Papen glared at the intelligence representative in front of him, "So the consensus of the spies are that if all the misfits who have displayed resistance to authority are gathered, armed and trained to fight as a single unit, there will be no untoward consequences?"

"Pretty much. The War Minister also agrees on our assessment and had indicated to us he will not be encouraging the deploying of more assets to chasing down blind alleys. He advises that conducting such a distrustful investigation of our most powerful weapons against the Neuroi when we are preparing to take back the Fatherland is highly unwise." The Abwehr rep stated.

_So if I were to press the issue, I would stand accused of splitting the Cabinet of His Majesty's Government at a time of crisis in case the War Ministry pushes back. But what are they playing at? These people who are now covering for Galland are the same who tried to prevent her from promoting to general in the first place_, thought the politician as von Papen snorted at the thinly veiled challenge.

Grabbing the glass of lukewarm juice, von Papen slurred smoothly, "If that is the advice of my esteemed colleagues currently holed up in Brussels, I do not see the reason to contradict them." Downing the drink in one gulp, the politician placed the cup on the desk and pushed the papers towards the messenger, to indicate the end of the meeting.

As the brunette messenger packed the documents and left the room briskly, von Papen turned back towards the open window, where the sun started to set and the sky turned a beautiful red. Sighing, the politician took in the changing patterns of the clouds before reaching out to the telephone on his desk.

It rung exactly four times before von Papen heard a click indicating someone on the other line had answered the call. No greeting or pleasantries were exchanged, but the chancellor knew that only one person would answer this particular number.

"Good evening to you as well, Ms Eva. I hope I did not disturb anything?"

Author's notes:

Yes, that was a blatant piece of foreshadowing. I plan to squeeze Mio and Minna for every piece of comedic value they are worth. After all, marriage tends to be the start of the problems a couple face, not the end of it.

The newly added scene was originally meant to be for Chapter 7, but it felt out of place and too abrupt a scene change. Placing it into Chapter 1 however helps to set the ground for the overarching conflict as well so in it goes with the rewrite.


	2. Chapter 2 The Guest List

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 2: The Guest List**

Dawn broke over the Romangan skyline.

Or rather, dawn had broken several hours ago, and Mio drowsily noted that dawn was not the only thing that is broken in her bunk. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth and a number of unfamiliar and certainly unwelcome odours lingered. Some she could identify immediately. The scent of her partner in a deep sleep next to her mixed with sweat. The lingering aroma of high grade Fuso sake reserved for officers that she never got around to opening and the strong, woody scent of Romangan red wine, the last being something she was all too familiar with after a giant urn's worth of the liquor crashed onto her.

As Mio tried to gather her thoughts, the smell of the Romangan vintage reminded her that she was never told what happened after she went blind drunk during the encounter that made her so familiar with Romangan wine. Attempts to get information out of Minna and Barkhorn were met with embarrassed stammering from the latter and blushing silence accompanied by simmering frustration from the former. Shirley, the last witness would only respond with barely concealed snickering at best and peals of howling laughter at worst. Making a mental note to make full use of Minna's more relaxed attitude around her to obtain some answers, Mio turned her attention to more important matters.

Trying to remember what the hell happened last night and why her body was sore in parts she didn't know was possible to feel anything.

It was an unusual experience for the Fuso Witch to be awaking to the sound and bustle of the castle's routine going into full swing or having the sun's light shining directly onto her face. Faintly, she heard Capt Barkhorn giving orders apparently directing a cleanup of the premises. A familiar enough refrain that both Mio and Minna had grown very used to and learnt to ignore as so much white noise. Typically, it'd involve a certain Lieutenant Erica Hartmann's rubbish heap of a room, loud protestations from Capt Barkhorn amid futile attempts to hold the Siegfried Line and finally a sleepy and ultimately insincere promise to make her side of the bunk look less like a crime scene of a break in. This time however, the replies came swiftly and sharply, words that no one had ever used to describe Lt Hartmann in the morning when dragged out of bed by her old partner.

The voices that responded were also very distinctively male. This quickly caught the major's attention. While the Witches were expected to keep their own quarters clean, something Lt Hartmann fails miserably at, general maintenance of the vast castle serving as their base was the domain of the male staff that was assigned to the 501st and their performance had generally been satisfactory. No further contact was necessary and though Miyafuji had attempted over a few times to break the sometimes uneasy barrier between them, generally, the status quo held. Yet Mio could tell from the flurry of instructions that Capt Barkhorn was directing what appeared to be a hectic effort to clear a significant amount of...something. The Fuso witch overheard instructions regarding the sweeping of glass, the rumble of moving furniture and her mind began to register that the unpleasant odour was actually dried up vomit. At least the source of THAT was coming from outside the room as far as she can notice. Still her brain refused to give up any more information regarding last night except a few blurry images that flashed across her eyes as she attempted to recollect the events of the previous night.

Her last clear memories were about the "private discussion" she had with her newly declared fiancée the afternoon before. Mio chuckled a bit at the use of the feminine pronoun on her partner. Even as the two got hot and heavy, eager to work out approximately eighteen month's worth of sexual frustration, Minna had sought out Mio's opinion as to who was to fill in the role of husband on the marriage certificate. Neither Karsland nor the Fuso Empire had gender neutral slots for the document and Minna decided it was best to decide the roles their new relationship was to have now. Mio, for the second time that day was again caught unawares by her lover's question and stopped undressing Minna to pause for a few minutes before asking for her opinion. " Who do you think should be the husband?""

"Why, you of course my dear."Minna beamed triumphantly. Before Mio could ask for a clarification, Minna began to launch into a lecture of something called pen kiss envy, by someone called Dr Fraud. Since Mio and many of her compatriots from the Fuso Empire's military were carrying swords, Minna figured that the male role would fit them perfectly. Mio decided it was not worth the hassle to find out how blade bearing has any relation to locking lips with writing implements or playing the traditionally masculine role in the partnership are related. She also wisely kept silent on how accurate a doctor's hypothesis with a surname that seems to be an intentional pun on how unreliable his opinions are.

Besides, while Mio had great respect for the scholars, she felt that anyone who feels the pen is mightier than the sword obviously never tried to block a sword with one. For those who ARE talented and strong enough to block a blade with a pen, they are better off using a sword instead to cut other, even bigger swords. Other sticks or even guns. As long as there was something out there that is black, hard and massive like the Neuroi for instance, Mio felt the bigger and sharper the sword, the better for cutting anything out there that requires cutting, slicing or stabbing. The major isn't too particular how her katana goes into the target as long as it does the job of turning the Neuroi into a shower of white glowing pieces floating in the air.

Dismissing the connection between the holding of long swords and her suitability for playing the role of husband as a product of incomprehensible Karsland thinking, Mio cut short Minna's lecture by pulling her up close and whispered to her ear, "If I'm the husband, does that mean you will perform your wifely duties?" prompting a furious blush from the Karsland Witch.

They then continued onto the more physical aspects of their meeting. Meaning that they made love like a pair of wild animals for several hours until the time for the scheduled evening briefing. Mio's memory started becoming blurry from that point on. The Fuso Witch smiled to herself as she recalled their session last afternoon. Mio had causally remarked that she would make Minna's ancestors cry for mercy but Minna replied being adopted, she doesn't know who her ancestors are. The Fuso Witch took it as a challenge and performed so vigorously to the exhausted satisfaction of her partner, she was confident that both her biological AND adopted family line had cried out. Unfortunately, this meant that Minna was physically too spent to perform her last parade and briefing, and Mio was not feeling up to it herself. A sharp rapping on the door and Ensign Francesca Luchini calling out for her led Mio to stagger to open it, and the last thing she remembered after opening it was a sudden sharp smell of alcohol and an opened bottle of scotch being poured down her throat.

Determined to have a clearer picture of the situation, Mio got dressed in her usual swimsuit and navy jacket ensemble. Captain Barkhorn still sounded in control and has always been a reliable source of information, barring that incident in the underground ruins. Perhaps she would be able to bring her up to date on the situation.

* * *

Gertrude Barkhorn has always been described as a paragon of Karsland soldierly virtues. Disciplined, attentive, unhesitant in following orders yet discreet enough to suggest improvements to superiors where necessary, she had disobeyed orders only once in her four years of service, in stark contrast to her ill disciplined compatriot, who had the dubious dual distinction of being the only ace to have been court marshalled and served detention six times while also racking up the battle honours.

This is why Gertrude felt her cheeks burn with shame and her heart sink as she heard in the distance the opening and closing of a heavy wooden door. The CO's quarters were right down the corridor from the mess hall and the sound came from the same direction, meaning either one of her superiors had gathered enough energy to survey the situation. Frankly, the situation was a complete mess and Gertrude was trying her level best to salvage whatever was left. The Karsland captain's face was currently sporting several bruises and numerous cuts, with her right eye barely open due to swelling. It was not a mark of honour that a proud soldier such as herself could bear proudly as a testament of service to her country on the battlefield but a damming indictment of disorderly behaviour. Injuries such as hers were common on more ill tempered and less disciplined individuals in uniform who after a rowdy night at the local bar which will result in a visit by the MPs, several servings of the night stick before a spot of cooling their heels in the brig.

In her case, the injuries she had received were due to the events last night. There was no establishments serving alcohol in the castle base of the Strike Witches, but the celebration of their co commanders engagement meant everyone in the unit was cutting lose and those with the devil's brew among the Witches- namely Erica Hartmann and Charlotte (Shirley) Yeager- thought it was a good time to show just how much moonshine and other more high quality beverages they had stashed in the cavernous compound. After the seventh case of different wines and spirits were hauled into the mess hall out from every nook and cranny of the base by Shirley while Hartmann dug out a few strangely well preserved bottles of fine vintage from _somewhere_ in the titanic trash heap in her room was accompanied by excited chatter from the Wing. Gertrude decided it might be fine to not resist the inevitable once in awhile.

In hindsight, it was a bad idea that has awfully executed as Gertrude had not anticipated a certain Erica Hartmann getting ahead of herself by telegraphing and radioing everyone of importance in the Allied High Command of the event before it began or Luchini's penchant for not so harmless mischief. Specifically, Hartmann had telegraphed a wedding invitation to every Allied formation, foreign embassy, police station and newspaper in Europe the night before the confession. Gertrude had to "accidentally" knock down the telegraph poles to prevent the RSVP from being sent back and tipping off her commander to the huge controversy her charge had ignited, which will be made worse should the engagement effort go sour. While the proposal had succeeded, things could have gotten very ugly if Minna had failed and the whole of Europe learnt of it. The 501st Joint Fighter Wing has been the focus of the world's major media with every major power being represented in it. A failed marriage proposal would play as a very juicy and scandalous story with almost unlimited potential for every high brow broadsheet to muck raking tabloid in the Allied capitals. What really horrified Gertrude however was how Minna would react had things gone sour. Gertrude liked her partner in one piece. Fortunately, the confession was successful and they only had the minor issue of dealing with still conservative public opinion regarding two women, even if they were war heroes, becoming a lawfully wedded couple, persuading the governments of both Karsland and the Fuso Empire that allowing two of their most famous aces to be together openly was worth the pressure the inevitable firestorm of yellow journalism and third string hacks looking for salacious stories.

Gertrude decided that her commander really liked riling up her higher ups as well rankling society at large. While Hartmann was the one who threw the dice and informed the world, Minna could not have been so blind as to not foresee the backlash about an open same sex relationship. It could not have been out of some sense of social justice or vision for liberal progressiveness. Wing Commander Minna was not a dyed in the wool social conservative who frowned at the slightest hint of deviance but her rank and position had made her develop a sense of pragmatism and an acute sense of picking her fights with the brass. Witches living together as a couple was all but tacitly acknowledged by every Allied military who bent over backwards to accommodate what they believed to be the personal quirks of highly valuable assets. Retired and active Witches even got benefits that extended to any partner of their choice, with the gender and marital status being overlooked as a matter of policy.

Either that or the old cliché that love can make people do stupid things holds true. Minna was adamant that Mio should get the dignity of the official status as her husband. The redhead was also adamant that Mio should be the one wearing the pants so to speak. Gertrude held her silence and managed to avoid pointing out that Fuso Witches preferred to wear swimsuits beneath their uniforms.

After leaving the CO's quarters, the responsibility of command in theory had fallen onto the shoulders of the next two senior officers currently not incapacitated. In reality, Gertrude decided, it was up to her to maintain some semblance of military discipline and cohesion over an already typically undisciplined unit currently lacking the steady hand of their co commanders while that noisy Liberion will hopefully not add too much to the surely chaotic celebrations due to happen.

"If that happens, we will be liberating Berlin by tomorrow." thought the auburn haired captain wryly on her little spell of wishful thinking. Shirley for her part did not add too much trouble to the proceedings and limited her delinquency and disrespect for her rank by fraternizing shamelessly with the lower ranks while getting hammered with the watery horse urine the Liberions refer to as beer. So unlike quality Karsland brew, Gertrude sniffed her disdain for the Liberion product was such that she would never allow herself to even wash her feet with it. It was bad enough she had equated been cajoled into admitting enjoying Liberion fries as much as the frites of Gallia and Belgium, but she drew the line at comparing the craft of the Munich breweries with the handiwork of some bootlegger from Chicago.

Instead, she settled for watching the celebrations unfold from the head of the mess table nursing while the rest of the 501st began to make merry in their own distinct ways. Yoshika pouted and fumed like someone had taken away her favourite toy while Lynette Bishop, her close partner, held Perrine close to her chest protectively; reminding her trusted comrade that Perrine had just been dumped and needed some comforting. Gertrude had blinked and swore to herself that the blonde was grinning ear to ear while wailing rather dramatically. Yoshika for her part settled for glaring daggers at them while downing cup after cup of green tea. Seated on the other end, Shirley started toasting mug after mug to no one in particular while her rather impressive cleavage jiggled as she went round after round. The older Liberion's actions soon attracted Yoshika's attention away and Gertrude thought to herself if there was an unwritten rule in the universe that Yoshika Miyafuji was magnetically drawn to movement emitted by cleavage that was at least a C cup in size as the young Fuso Witch seemed to glide over to Shirley's side. Gertrude then started frowning as she noticed Yoshika's face was redder than usual and she was also having a hiccup. Someone had obviously spiked the teapot. The two likely culprits, Luchini and Hartmann were nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the silver haired duo of Eila IImatar Juutilainen and Alexandra "Sanya" Vladamirnova Litvyak reacted to the brewing pandemonium in their usual manner. The Suommus witch read her tarot cards quietly while only having eyes for her partner while Sanya looked sleepy while playing with her tail. Gertrude sighed in resignation as she felt a migraine creep up to her. "At least it cannot get any worse." she mumbled to herself as she got up from her seat and prepared to restore order.

At that very moment, one of the windows of the mess hall was smashed open and the roar of a Striker Unit's propellers filled the room, followed closely by a blonde figure clad in khaki brown which flew into the room and began to slowly descend and the other end of the long dining table. Reddish brown white tipped feather filled the room as a large magic circle manifested covering the whole room in an azure glow before it slowly receded as the source of the commotion began to land.

Gertrude snarled as she addressed the new visitor to their gathering. "Breaking into a military installation without permission, damaging of property, operating of machinery in a forbidden area and failing to keep regulation length hair and grooming. Is there no beginning to your sense of common decency and pride as a Karsland soldier, _Star of Africa_?" The Karsland captain spat out the nickname as if it was a curse.

Captain Hanna Justina Marseille, the aforementioned Star of Africa, maintained her trademark cocksure expression and smirk was sporting a brown bomber jacket with a khaki green Luftwaffe shirt beneath it began striding up to her counterpart and pulled out a piece of paper from her pants before slamming it down on the table, her face inches from Gertrude as she said, "I am responding the invitation sent out from your sad little outfit about a wedding. I figured that no union will be complete without a _real_ star so I have decided to grace the occasion with my occasion. "Placing her hands on her hips, the blonde straightened her back while her smirk changed into a grin, Marseille continued, "You can now proceed to genuflect in gratefulness for my generosity in responding."

Gertrude held and calmly read the telegraphed invitation, before brushing off several grains of sand from it by waving it forcefully. "I will have to mention failure to maintain an acceptable standard of personal hygiene." calmly remarked the auburn haired captain. "Haven't you learnt to clean yourself properly from environmental hazards in boot camp?"

Marseille's expression broke for a moment before resuming into her usual smug look. "As usual, Barkhorn you are unable to comprehend that someone as great as I would be beyond such trivial matters like rules or regulations. Truly, jealousy over my obvious superiority is such an ugly sight to behold. "Gertrude arose from her seat and grabbed the blonde by her flight jacket collar, pulling Marseille closer, intending to a comeback stating that a lack of personal hygiene suggests anything but greatness was interrupted by Luchini diving into Shirley's lap while wailing."Shirley! The major is being really, really scary!" Mio's trademark booming laughter then echoed through the room while the pint sized Romangan Witch let out a yelp and dived beneath Shirley's chair. The Liberion Witch for her part actually stopped drinking and seemed to sober up, turning her head to the direction of the laughter. Both Shirley and Gertrude gulped as they realised that Francesca Luchini had just unleashed a monster.

Time seemed to slow down as the sound of a flurry of steps accompanied by a continuous maniacal laugh captured the attention of everyone in the mess hall. Marseille for her part wondered if she had somehow failed to hear a report of an alleged haunting in the base. Sure enough, Sakamoto Mio strode into the room, her cheeks a ruby red while a wide smile was plastered on her face. "Hey, I didn't know yoush all had twins." slurred the Fuso Witch. "Well, itsh my party! And I'm sayin that everyone and their siblings who are somehow separated at birth are ordered to drop and give me a smashing good time!" Mio scanned the room and saw Gertrude with Marseille, their faces just inches from each other. Letting out a burst of laughter, the major ran over to the duo and slurred, "Yoush two gettin' hot and heavy? I didn't know you two were that close but since it's started, don't mind little o'l me and begin the tongue wrestling." before folding her arms and letting out another burst of maniacal laughter.

"I wasn't going to kiss her!"echoed both Witches at once before blinking and turning to each other. "Stop copying me!"

Mio frowned as she heard their joint declaration, "Well, since yoush two aren't going to kiss. Why not do what they always do in Minna's comic books and beat one another before the kissing part?"

"With all respect due your rank, Major, I'm not going to urgghh!" Gertrude's protest was cut short by Marseille's fist. "With pleasure, major regarding the first half of your order. I will, however, have this little stick in the mud kiss my arrghhh!" The blonde Witch's gloating was interrupted by a swift kick in her belly from Gertrude which sent her flying into an empty chair and was quickly followed by a tackle. As the two rivals began to exchange blows while entangled with each other, Mio yelled out in between hoots of laughter, "A hundred pounds that Captain Barkhorn will leave our visitor eating with a straw fer weeks! Place yer bets!"

In the end, the fight ended in a draw as the furniture to trash in the room ran out and Marseille's personal aide Matilda, a towering African Witch sporting a spear, sling and spear arrived to pull apart and separate the two combatants. Eila and Sanya for their part chipped in and carried the now snoring Mio back to her shared bunk with Minna.

Gertrude Barkhorn knew very well that unauthorised use of force is a sign of ill discipline, but _damn_ did it feel good to lamp her rival with a few good shots in the face and kidneys. "If not for her magic, she'd be pissing blood for weeks."As it stands, the Karslander will have to settle for just a few hours of said blooding urinating she had inflicted on Marseille and knowledge that the blonde Witch won't be chewing anything with that jaw of hers until the medics are done with her.

"Acceptable losses, the chipped wisdom teeth and swelling on my right eye. I should be able to see out of in a few days. "thought Gertrude to herself as she did a check on her own injuries.

Requiring the manpower for the aftermath the next morning, Gertrude decided to exercise her prerogative as the current ranking officer and requisitioned the aid of the male staff the next morning to do the clean up.

Luchini finally revealed after intense interrogation and threats to awaken the still intoxicated Mio should she fail to cooperate that after she had fed their sub commander with a bottle of aged scotch, the situation had spiralled out of control and Mio had chased her around the room, intending to squeeze the stuffing out of her while squealing how the Romangan girl was cute as a button. Shirley quipped that Luchini ought to feel flattered their sub commander finds her good enough as a soft toy replacement while Gertrude made sure to never let her own baby sister Chris anywhere near a tipsy Mio.

The Luftwaffe captain then spotted a decidedly sober but haggard looking Sakamoto Mio approaching her and began to rehearse her words in her mind.

This was going to be the most awkward report in her career.

* * *

Mio had hesitated to approach Captain Barkhorn as she spied the same awkward expression that reminded her of the times when she was a green trainee back in the Fuso Empire which yelled bad news. Specifically, it betrayed the type of ill tidings that would quickly make the rounds of every gossip session in every beer hall and cafe in Europe, no matter how hard the censors try to ensure that word does not spread. Still, she had a job to do.

"Captain Barkhorn," Mio remarked casually, trying her best to maintain a semblance of serenity even as the full measure of the mess and needed clean up sunk into her. "Seems like everyone enjoyed themselves." The Fuso Witch then attempted to laugh away but choked on her forced mirth as she noticed her subordinate's stiff expression.

"With your permission, Major," Gertrude emphasised on the rank to stress the official nature of their conversation. She cleared her throat before sticking out her chest, "I would like to give the status report."

"Granted, "Mio sighed. No point delaying the inevitable. As the briefing commenced in a droning, flat tone, the major felt thankful for little favours. The clinical and precise nature of the report made the events of the previous night feel almost like a non consequential run of the mill event rather than the massive Charlie Foxtrot scenario it had degenerated into. Had someone else been involved, Mio would have incorporated into a case study on what NOT to do when attempting to provide R&R to the troops. As it is, Mio seriously considered purging any mention of the events that transpired last night from the records and locking it in a folder entitled Old Shame while forcing every last soul who witnessed it to a vow of silence on pain of death.

"I can't believe I trashed Minna's favourite radio," muttered Mio. , "She's going to kill me when she finds out."

"Find _what_ out, my dear?"

Mio froze while she felt a chill run down her spine at the sound of the honeyed voice from her back. Minna had a versatile repertoire of vocal hints to match her naturally pleasant sounding voice and the Fuso Witch instinctively recognised THAT tone. It is usually preceded by her doing something mind numbing dumb and would be followed by something very unpleasant. Mio- and everyone else who had the unfortunate fate to hear it directed at them- usually blocks out mentally what happened after that.

Mio couldn't help but notice that everyone had suddenly vacated the mess hall instantly. If only they were this fast during training.

"What a pleasant surprise, Minna. Why don't you sleep in a bit more?" Mio hoped that her partner had not noticed her fancy Karsland radio was lying in pieces.

"I've slept enough, dear." remarked the redhead breezily while a static smile remained on her face. "I can't help but notice that my radio seems to be in _two pieces_. Sliced right in middle with a bamboo shinai lying next to them. "Minna's expression suddenly snapped into a glowering scowl. "You wouldn't _happen to know anything about it_?"

Mio caught herself whimpering as her partner started lurching closer to her.

* * *

Author's notes:

Plenty of exposition and not too much of the main couple's lovey dovey behaviour. Next up, the guests begin to stream in.

As always, read and review.


	3. Chapter 3 Retracing One's Steps

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 3: Retracing their Steps.**

"Can I stop singing now?" pleaded Mio hoarsely.

Sakamoto Mio had always enjoyed a good singing session. Whether it was in the shower while alone or leading the recruits on a morning run, she would like to break out into song.

She wasn't a good singer and during the months she spent holed up with Junko and Yoshiko in Libau had made that very clear. Her teammates snickered their nickname of the Three Crows referred to her singing voice. Not that it had stopped her from belting out a tune now and then however, since she felt it wasn't how you sing the song that mattered but why and whom you are singing for that made the music meaningful.

For her lover Minna, Mio would gladly sing a song. Any song for her beloved for hours on end even if she sounded like she can't carry a tune without the aid of a handbag. Yet the flesh is weak though the spirit is willing for the major HAD been singing for several hours now. The desire certainly wasn't protecting her vocal chords.

"Very well. Time to switch channels to the news then." Minna gave an impish smile and giggled as she reached out to pinch and twist Mio's cheek, mimicking the turning of a radio's knob. She was lying on her belly in her pyjamas as she did so, resting her head and left arm on a pillow while her legs moved idly along the bed.

Mio thought of groaning as her partner's hands reached closer to her face. Her punishment for trashing Minna's radio was something she had not anticipated. Minna had first shown her trademark stiff smile, the expression that everyone in the 501st knew signified the countdown before she snaps with Mio had fully expecting her commander to pull out her sidearm and let off a few rounds in her general direction but instead settled for sniffing and stomping off.

The cold shoulder followed the rest of the day with Mio following around her fiancé like a lovesick puppy while the rest of the Strike Witches wisely went about their daily routine, carefully sidestepping the issue of wedding preparations. The silent treatment endured until the end of the evening's final briefing and the couple retired to their now shared bunk.

"Radio," stated Minna flatly.

"Come again?" questioned the bemused Fusoan.

"You broke my radio, so your turn to be the radio for the night." repeated her partner.

As reparations for the broken device, she was to become its replacement for the duration of the day.

It had sounded extremely lenient at first, considering how much the Wing Commander had prized it. Now Mio was hoping her commander had chosen for the shoot first option.

"I'm tired..." moaned Mio as she gauged her partner's expression. It was an amused and gentle smile that reminded her of the times she had caught Minna staring at her while Mio pretended to be sound asleep. Deciding to take full advantage of the situation, Mio laid down on the bed with a thud, spreading her limbs out while kicking her legs. "I don't wanna be the radio anymore. Let's play something else." The Fusoan whined in a higher than normal pitch and acted like a child babying to her mother.

Mio felt a slight stab of guilt and a bit uneasy over the blatant appealing to her partner's maternal instinct, but the desire to bail out the imposed punishment and desire for affection quickly overruled it.

Minna, exactly as predicted, couldn't resist responding to her lover's playful tantrum and sat up as she gently placed Mio's head onto her lap. Humming, Minna untied Mio's hair before she began stroking her partner's hair, followed by planting a kiss on Mio's forehead.

"All right you big baby," giggled the Karslander, "Let me serenade you instead."

Vor der Kaserne,  
Vor dem großen Tor,  
Stand eine Laterne,  
Und steht sie noch davor,  
So woll'n wir uns da wieder seh'n,  
Bei der Laterne wollen wir steh'n,  
Wie einst, Lili Marleen.

As the strains of the song carried by drifted off into the silent night, Mio felt herself being lulled into sleep at her partner's voice.

* * *

The closing moments of the year 1943 were proving to be just as miserable for Johan "Slimy Snake" Helles as the rest of his blighted stay in London following the Neuroi invasion of Karsland. The Britainnian quip of describing the London climate as fair weather looking up a chimney on a fine day and looking down one on a foul day had echoed in his mind as he pulled his jacket closer.

Somehow, the joke didn't seem very funny as he shivered while a miserable drizzle and howling winds outside his pawn shop _The Serpent's Den_ sent any potential customers scurrying for their homes. Curfew had been lifted for the end holiday season to bring some cheer to the war weary populace of London, but Herr Helles had little to cheer about. His wrinkled forehead topped with silvery thinning hair and a wiry frame paired with a pair of reading glasses gave him the appearance of an eccentric academic more at home in the libraries of Oxford than a seasoned bootlegger with a few public servants in his back pocket.

Sighing, he snapped his ledgers and stood up from behind his cashier's counter to begin closing for the night. The recent corruption crackdown in the Home Guard hierarchy had cut off half his contacts for his black market trade while the other half were likely to hang him out to dry if the pressure from MI5 got any heavier. The recent successes in Malta and Egypt in driving back the Neuroi menace meant supplies from Liberion were able to pass the Suez and the Mediterranean with minimal trouble, allowing the government to increase rations.

Fortunate news for outstanding citizens of the Empire who were too poor to be depending on the black market to supplement their meagre monthly rations, not so much for smugglers such as himself as the double whammy of lost sources and lessened demand for his more profitable wares such as tobacco and whisky which was becoming widely available at lowered prices.

The aged shopkeeper was facing the grim prospect of actually having to make do with what was miserly allocated to him by the pencil pushers in the Home Office, causing him untold amounts of grief

The sound of doors creaking open and the ringing of bells snapped Helles out of his despondent thoughts as he turned his attention to the figure walking into his shop. It was wearing a Royal Navy issued overcoat topped off with an officer's cap from the Fuso Imperial Navy, the later which caused his standard business smile to widened into a predatory grin as he continued his observation. "A belated, but a very happy new year, Johan." the shopkeeper thought to himself.

Officers from the many foreign navies currently docked in Britannia tend to be big spenders when on shore leave, not too concerned with being ripped off unlike the more miserly enlisted men or the Britainnian military. Liberions tended to be easiest marks, overpaid but having too little sense to realise that even with price controls and the war it did not cost fifty pounds for an alleged (and obviously fake) used Edwardian-era wristwatch but the Fusoan, their country unmarked mostly by war and their soldiers flush with cash due to hazard pay were a good alternative.

A tad more discerning and far more demanding in terms of packaging, they are very much prone to nitpicking the details of their purchase. Still, the Fusoan were-pound for pound- more than able to match their Liberion counterparts provided they felt sufficiently convinced they were paying for something very rare and very expensive.

For someone who doesn't have something that would actually be worth the price he was quoting them however, it mean he would have to- borrowing that Liberion phrase- pull a fast one over them until their money was safely in his hands.

Pulling a fast one over them however was an art, one that Johan "Slimy Snake" Helles was certain no other shifty character in the entire East End, or indeed the whole of the United Kingdom. The shopkeeper wore his nickname given to him by a very upset Whitehall bureaucrat he had ripped off before proudly as his erstwhile victim would bear the title of Commander of the Britannian Empire.

Closely observing the sailor now removing the bulky overcoat and hanging it onto the coat hanger, Helles attempted to bite down his widening grin as he noticed the dress uniform shirt the mark was wearing. Dressing up usually meant the customer was preparing to impress and more likely to overspend. His eyes narrowed in worry however when he noticed that instead of the usual full length pants, the bottom half of a dark blue swimsuit peaked out. A Witch, he thought. A Witch just walked into his pawn shop chock full of contraband that will get him thrown into jail if they decided to conduct a sweep of his premises. The shifty shopkeeper was very aware of just how closely the Allied governments were watching these magical ladies of war. If he didn't play his cards right, he would have a lot more than the Home Guard to deal with.

"_Guten Abdend, Frau Hexe_, " he greeted in Karslandish. Helles spoke Britainnian just fine but most of his customers tended to drop their guard if they believed they were dealing with a simple country bumpkin from Europe who didn't speak Britannian too well and became more susceptible to his repertoire of moves. Peering carefully at his new customer, he noticed the Fusoan witch was wearing a white eye patch with blue stripes over her left eye and hair tied up into a ponytail bearing an expressionless face while carrying a sword. The uneasiness of having an armed presence sent a slight chill up his spine. Shopkeepers have finely tuned sense of danger when in the presence of armed customers, uniformed or not and while a Witch was not likely to turn the pointy end at him_, accidents_ have happened before.

"_ Guten Abdend, lieber Herr_." the witch returned the greeting simply with a slight nod while she turned her attention to the displayed items around the shop. Helles tried his level best to prevent his dismay at the slightly accented return greeting in his native tongue from showing on his face. If she spoke Karslandish, then trying to play on his lack of knowledge of the local lingo just became that much harder. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze fell over pens, watches and other personal valuables that lined up the displays within the shop and Helles uttered a silent prayer in gratitude that he had heard of the Home Guard's recent clean up and hid the contraband cigarettes and liquor in the cellar.

Prior to the clean up, he was so confident he had the bobbies and other patrols so piled with illicit produce he had openly displayed his forbidden tobacco and liquor as well as excess rations. Caution at the fate of his suppliers within the Guard however convinced him of the need for discretion and he was very glad his more cautious instincts had prevailed. There was nothing currently being shown that would signal to his customer he was a legitimate businessman who was doing his bit in these trying times to make a living, rather than a smuggler who also indulged in a bit of intrigue for extra cash when approached by shady characters.

It was however, not the usual contraband that Helles was really worried about however. It was the intrigue that compromised several supposedly friendly powers that really caused the cold sweat to flow down his back.

What had remained securely hidden in a hidden compartment in the floor he was currently standing on however were some shortwave radios, so vital to long distance communication and prized among anyone with some "sensitive messages" they needed to be sent back to either Neue Karsland or the Gallian Government in exile in Annam.

Smuggling in contraband was one thing. _Spying_ for several different governments on the other hand was to attract lots and lots of unwanted attention and possibly a knife in the dark from the many different spymasters wanting to clean up a compromised asset. causing the old smuggler to shudder at the prospect.

Up close, the Witch appeared diminutive, even to an aging smuggler who was hardly a towering figure. Still, the customer who was barely five feet tall in front of him was carrying a weapon, likely knew how to use it, plenty of reason to use and the newsreels extolling their fighting prowess was probably not ALL balderdash. How much was propaganda and how much was fact was something he did not know, nor was he eager to find out.

The fact that she was currently focusing on the exact spot beneath himself where he had hidden said radios were making him break out into a cold sweat. The Fusoan witch then turned her attention to his other wares on display, and Helles allowed himself an inaudible sigh of relief.

His sense of relief however quickly dissipated as he noticed the Witch's increasingly frustrated expression and pull up her eye patch, revealing a working eye with purple irises. He had no idea what kind of devilry it was supposed to work, but he figured it was likely highly unpleasant if used. His worry compounded as he noticed his customer cough into her hands and spoke with pleasant, albeit stiffly, in Britannian. "I beg your pardon sir, but I fear that I have exhausted my minute knowledge of Karslandish and must revert to the use of Britannian. I come seeking radios, preferably shortwave if you have them. " The Fusoan witch bit her lip before continuing, " I must confess however, that I am rather short of funds at the moment but would like to have a look at your wares regardless."

Helles for his part was attempting desperately not to bolt for the back door if only he was sure it would probably be into the waiting arms of a few armed soldiers as he heard the thinly veiled demand for him to turn in his radios.

_She knows! _

Either that evil eye had already worked it's infernal magic, or she had waltzed in fully aware of the equipment Helles had stashed away and the removing of the eye patch was a hint of what she could do!

"She knows! She already knew of what I had before she came into my shop!" thought the shopkeeper in despair.

The cultured, stiff Britannian delivered in received pronunciation, clearly intended for a listening audience had nearly given him a panic attack as he tried desperately to guess where exactly the others were undoubtedly listening in from. The old shopkeeper had played this game many times before, when the pretence of politeness heralded brutal violence if the demands issued by the uniformed predator were not met, only this was the first time the other player was quite literally a girl young enough to be his daughter. He'd be proud, if only he was not the likely target of the shakedown for either material or knowledge.

Still, the last bit of her claiming to not having enough money sounded like a request for a bribe and Helles decided if she was asking for something, he may just come out of this encounter not ending up in a concentration camp.

"Do not worry about money, madam. Please wait here! "declared the shopkeeper loudly hoping that whoever was listening in was hearing every word of it and understand he was cooperating.

Quickly , he moved to a safe on his left where his newly acquired goods were kept. A fancy shortwave radio, decorated with gold trimmings and a smooth finish on its mahogany wood cover he had inside was the perfect bribe. Not much use for intelligence gathering, but perfect for buying off someone. Placing it on the counter, he said, "No payment required."

The Witch appeared aghast at the declaration and insisted, "I can't accept something like this for free! Quote me a price." Helles flinched at the fake modesty his tormentor was displaying as he reconsidered bolting from the shop.

"Please, consider this a humble contribution to the war effort and a celebration of the recent victories, "pleaded the smuggler, desperate that he would not have to throw in some more precious contraband to sweeten the deal.

The Witch hesitated, before she bowed deeply. "Thank you so very much! I shall never forget your generosity. " She then respectfully took the device with two hands and wrapped it with a silk sheet helpfully provided by Helles before she bowed again and left the shop.

The old smuggler's smile remained plastered on his face, eagerly awaiting for his "customer" to finish putting on her coat and hat and it was not until he heard the bells on his doors ring, signalling the departure of his customer that he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Helles nearly choked on it as the doors opened again and that blasted Witch stuck her head into the premises, "What is your name, sir."

"More fake modesty? This is getting silly, "thought the shopkeeper irately but kept his expression under control. "Johan Helles, madam. Think nothing of it."

The Fusoan witch nodded before replying, "I am Major Sakamoto of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. If I should ever get a chance to return to London, I will repay you with interest for your generosity. "

Helles paled visibly at the thought of a return visit but kept the stiff, vacant smile on his face before the witch nodded again and finally closed the doors once more.

The shopkeeper waited with bated breath for the departing footsteps to stop before he began to hurriedly close up for the night while visibly trembling.

Dodging one bullet for the night was enough.

Out on the streets of the East End, Mio pulled her coat closer to herself as she walked back to the local garrison where her lodgings were. "Poor man. He was so pale and sweating so much just now."

_Still, such admirable work ethic even when he was so obviously sick!_ nodded Mio in approval.

* * *

Sakamoto Mio drowsily opened her eyes as she recalled the dream she just had of the time she had brought the radio for Minna. It was meant as a gift to thank her for the assistance she had shown to the Fusoan witch when she first arrived in Britannia at the initial formation of the Strike Witches but Mio had no opportunity until she arrived back from the Malta campaign halfway through her posting and had a small stop in London.

The fact that the kindly old shopkeeper had given the now smashed radio to her for free had filled her with a mix of joy and shame. Mio had swore to herself that she would find a chance to pay him back with interest. Admirers giving gifts to Witches were not new, but Mio always felt that she had taken advantage of a generous old man who upon seeing her was willing to part with what was obviously a treasured item.

Now, the gift was destroyed due to her own inability to resist the effects of alcohol. Obviously, something had to be done about the situation and there was no time like the present.

Staring at her engagement band resting on her hand, she blushed despite herself at the memory of the proposal. It still felt so much like a dream, that the typically reserved Karslander with a reputation for acting far older than her eighteen years of age would be so rash and well, act her age. Staring at Minna's sleeping form next to her, Mio resisted the urge to plant a deep tongue kiss and settled for planting a light peck on the cheek.

If she got intimate with her lover now, she'd be here for the better part of the day...Mio quickly stopped that train of thought as she tried not to let her more lewd fantasies run rampant, fully aware how close she is to actively fulfilling them with a very willing partner.

Perhaps after the replacement radio, she can drop by the jewellers for a pair of wedding rings.

Smiling at the dozing figure of Minna, she placed the quilt over her and gently kissed her again on the cheek before moving off to the showers. London was a few hours flight away, and she needed to be early.

Fortunately, some old friends were scheduled to drop by and she would likely be able to hitch a ride with them.

Author's Notes:

A combination of the Chinese New Year and work had delayed the work almost indefinitely. Fortunately, I managed to get my butt down and pound out this segment of the story. Still, the fourth chapter is halfway ready, so I expect it to be out sometime this weekend.

The opening scene from the movie Inglorious Basterds kept playing out in my mind when Hans Landa was being sickeningly polite to that French farmer. Of course, Mio is not a genocidal maniac, but poor Johan Helles didn't know that.

Incidentally, Helles is a reference to a type of German beer. Fitting as most bootleggers in hard times never seem to run out of moonshine. Timeline-wise the scene in London was immediately after Mio had returned from Malta, the story detailed in the SW manga The Shape Of Our Bond, set almost immediately before Season 1 of the anime.

Next Chapter- The Three Crows in London. Our favourite eye-patched Witch and her old buddies Junko and Demon Queen Yoshiko will be dropping by in merry old England, though they probably won't see the Queen.

Minna will also be getting more time in the next instalment and our favourite (long) pants wearing Witch Adolfine Galland will be bringing some wedding gifts for her favourite subordinates.


	4. Chapter 4 The Crows in London

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 4: The Crows in London**

The universe has a particular way of springing some of the nastiest surprises you cannot possibly anticipate or prepare for.

Captain Takei Junko also realised said universe can be very repetitive when it comes to the type of nasty surprises it likes to throw at you. After all, while there are so many ways to die messily due to no fault of your own, it prefers to throw the same the same life threatening scenario again and again, hoping this time it will stick.

Junko mused that she had heard someone said the definition of insanity or stupidity was doing the same thing repeatedly, thinking that it will have a different result.

Thus, Junko concluded, the universe which was making her life miserable had to be stark raving mad.

Because the alternative was that life had the stubbornness of a mule and the brains to match. Junko shuddered at the thought of the universe was being run by the equivalent of a cosmic mule.

The Fusoan captain had arrived at Romanga hoping to attend what was undoubtedly going to be a lively wedding. She would probably be highly amused by some of the antics her Romagna Witches, the renowned Red Pants, of the 504th Joint Fighter Wing will undoubtedly pull when they arrive on site after her just to liven things up, true to form.

The general idea was to stay out of any death defying situations. She had this funny aversion to a sudden and painful death.

Getting knocked to the tarmac of the runway by 5 feet 2 inches of Fusoan witch, dressed in Army flight suit ensemble of a white hakama top, blue mini skirt and flowing white scarf the minute she alighted from the plane?

Not in the plans.

"Junko!" squealed her assailant in excitement, "It's been so long. Still as slow and squishy as ever."

"Yoshiko?" gasped out the suffocating witch.

Staring at the reason she was currently on the floor, Nishizawa "Demon Queen" Yoshiko spotted an almost feral grin on her rounded face, her white cat ears twitching in excitement and brushing her short rusty brown hair which matched the witch's slightly tanned skin. The green clear eyes of her pint sized colleague seemed to gleam in greeting to Junko, a gleam that she had not anticipated on seeing again so soon after Libau.

Neither was she expecting all her oxygen to get expelled from her lungs. Best to attend to that one quickly.

"Let go... can't...breath..." gasped out the unfortunate witch as her lungs battled for air and her limbs struggled to break free.

The serenely smiling form of her childhood friend Sakamoto Mio however was something she had envisioned. Only without the iron grip of her relatively pint sized comrade currently suffocating her however.

This painfully familiar combination of dissonant serenity and crushing embraces was something she had hoped to leave behind in Libau along with the other general craziness. Not to relieve on her best friends' wedding.

Echoing footsteps heralded the arrival of yet another person from the interior of the plane. A dark haired witch wearing a brown Liberion bomber jacket over a light brown shirt stepped out into the open, sporting a pair of grey pants with unlaced boots. The newcomer then stood at the top of the steps leading to the runway, calmly observing the commotion playing out in front of her.

A pair of dark grey tiny eagle wings materialised on the Liberion's head, the expression of their owner remaining unchanging even as they began twitching in anticipation. She chewed loudly on a piece of gum, watching disinterestedly with a sleepy expression at the sight of her commander having her life being squeezed out by her fellow Fusoan witch.

" Captain Takei, I don't think that shade of blue on your face is supposed to be there." stated the newcomer calmly as if she was remarking on the fine weather.

"Help...me Don. World...going...black." gasped out a distress Junko.

Mio then decided that Yoshiko had enough time to show her unique brand of affection to their mutual friend. Locking both her arms underneath Yoshiko's armpits, Mio stated simply as she began to wrench Yoshiko away despite her vocal protests, "That's enough hugging. Junko seems to have gone a bit soft and can't take your hugs anymore."

"Lies! She still has another thirty seconds before she blacks out!"huffed the junior witch. Junko for her part was coughing and panting for air, recovering from the stark reminder just how much the Demon Queen's signs of affection _hurt_.

"Which means she will spend half the day in the infirmary not helping me with my shopping trip to London. I want both of you to accompany me." countered the major.

_Oh joy! Another four hours flight after I nearly got suffocated due to two of the most reckless Witches in the entire Allied forces_, thought Junko as she breathed in deep gasps. "I am awfully touched that you were worried about me missing out on a shopping trip if I had passed out from a lack of oxygen, Mio." snapped Junko dryly.

"You're welcome. "the eye patched witch replied. Junko wondered if the obliviousness was an act or really how her friend felt before she caught herself. Sakamoto Mio's personal concept of safety and self preservation was legendary even among the famously reckless Fuso witches.

It was legendary in the sense most people believes it to be fictional.

_Someday, I have to remind her not everyone regards a potential coma to be a small matter_, huffed the unfortunate Captain to herself even as her subordinate introduced herself as Dominica Gentile, formerly of the Liberion Air Force but currently serving as a volunteer with the Ardour Witches of the 504th Joint Fighter Wing.

When flying as the Three Crows of Libau, Takei Junko never had a single doubt that her wing mates would make sure she comes back alive. Of course, as fine company the duo were to have in battle, Junko mused on many occasions if she would have needed their saving had she not been partnered with them.

_Yoshiko nearly killing me with her display of affection, Mio generally not noticing Yoshiko killing me with said display of affection before extracting her from me. Then we top it off with an entirely avoidable close brush with death_. mused the Ardour Witch commander. _Just like old times. _

_The universe was up to its old tricks again. _

"Right, we can set off in half hour's time while the plane gets refuelled, and be back from London at supper time." remarked Mio while pointing at the modified Fokker bomber Junko and her entourage had ridden to Romagna.

_Deciding for others as always, Mio_, thought Junko as she dusted herself off. "Why London instead of say, Rome?" queried the younger witch.

" I have a favour to repay and a new radio to buy after I smashed the old one. "replied Mio while keeping a firm hand and eye on Yoshiko.

The younger witch was fidgeting restlessly while gazing at a dog eared, curly haired orange blonde witch who had alighted from the plane like a cat studying a new toy. Her spotted Dalmatian ears curled up by instinct even as her azure eyes scanned the airfield searching for the source of her nervousness.

The newcomer dressed in a khaki Liberion Air Force staff , closely followed Dominica in striding down the plane. Instinctively feeling herself being measured, her azure eyes darted towards Yoshiko before quickly turning away in fear, the orange blonde witch pressing herself protectively behind Dominica. The eagle winged witch for her part maintained a relaxed posture but tensed ever so slightly.

Mio took the hint and grabbed onto Yoshiko more forcefully. One fight at her wedding was enough for her.

Sensing the building tension, Junko sought to quickly defuse it. "Sounds like a plan, Mio." Turning to her subordinates, she ordered, "Don, Jane. Bring my luggage to the hangar and ask for directions to our assigned quarters. You will be free to do as you wish, but stay in the base." Best to get them out as soon as possible.

"Yes, Ma'am!" the curly blonde now identified as Jane snapped into a nervous salute before hurriedly beginning to move towards the safety of the building, lugging several suitcases along. Dominica in turn gave a silent nod before moving briskly following her partner.

Yoshiko silently watched the duo head as they moved to the interior of the base and felt Mio's grip loosen as they disappear into building when she then noticed Junko directing a vicious glare at her while placing both hands on her hips.

"What?"asked Yoshiko even as she stretched her arms to allow blood to flow back. Even for someone with very little magic left, Mio's grips are still strong enough to immobilise even her and _hurt_ like hell at full strength.

"Don't "what" me, young lady!" huffed Junko. "I saw the way you were eyeing Captain Godfrey like she was a new toy. Let's be clear on this. She is not for doing _anything _to!"

"Not even a friendly cuddle, mommy?"smirked Yoshiko before she felt a sharp rap on her head.

"Don't speak to a superior officer like that. "reprimanded Mio, withdrawing her training sword while the younger witch began to grumble under her breath.

"Yes, Ma'am. " Yoshiko grudgingly acknowledged. _Besides, I'm more interested in that Romagnan in the Liberion uniform. That slouch of hers' belonged to one heck of fighter_, mused Yoshiko.

Satisfied at Yoshiko's acknowledgement, Junko suggested, " Why not wait in the plane while they refuel? We can catch up on old times while we are at it." The captain then let out a sly smile as she continued, "Plus, we can find out why exactly you're the first among us to get hitched. We want _all_ the details, Mio. "

"All?"gulped Mio as she felt her cheeks burning.

"Leave _nothing_ out. " confirmed Yoshiko eagerly, her eyes flashing while Junko nodded vigorously in approval.

Sighing, Mio began trudging up the steps into the plane, recalling the events of the past two days while her companions listened intently.

Idly, Mio wondered if teaching them the trick with using your partner's tail she learnt while getting intimate with Minna would be wise.

* * *

London's East End at noon at noon is quite a sight to behold. Office workers on a post lunch stroll back to their offices mingle with paper boys yelling at the top of their lungs touting the latest news from the front. Home Guard patrols, it's members made up of drafted citizens who for some reason are unable to serve in the any of the armed services, march in formation down the sidewalks as a show of force.

In the early desperate days of the Neuroi invasion of Europe when ancient cities on the continent fell under the alien black tide, the sight of Her Majesty's soldiers would have inspired cheers from the populace. The East End had taken the brunt of the bombings and laser blasts, the sky swarming dusk till dawn with the obsidian figures of the alien menace who were answered with hails of flak and the darting figures of Witches defending their skies. Half of the street had barely been rebuilt, while craters and pot holes hastily cemented over mark the roads, a reminder of the conflict which had not ended.

The tide however had turned, and while Karsland and much of Central and Eastern Europe remain under Neuroi dominion, it seemed almost a world away from the Britannian isles . For a people already looking forward to the post war reconstruction and removal of restrictions and rationing, the sight of the Guard was an unwelcome reminder that the war was still not won.

Instead of cheers, catcalls among the denizens of the street are far more likely as they spot their unfortunate neighbours selected for patrol duties. The Home Guard preferred to have members patrol their own neighbourhoods, making them far more likely to spot something untoward.

Heavy vehicles and other troop transports rumble down the overworked roads, sharing them with staff cars of senior officers and diplomatic vehicles, civilian traffic being almost non-existent due to fuel rationing. A fortunate few not hurrying to their next appointment sit at the recently set up Gallian bistros on the roadside sipping coffee watching the world go by while enjoying the cool autumn breeze, the owners of said establishments having set up shop following the fall of Paris to the Neuroi.

While rebuilding was in full swing and a considerable number of proud Parisians had returned home, more pragmatic shopkeepers stayed behind, content to offer a taste of continental bourgeoisie culture to the moneyed members of the numerous governments in exile still located in the Britannian capitol.

They would of course prefer to operate in the more suitable surroundings of the posh West End of course, rather than the more unsavoury confines of the East. However, beggars can't be choosers and for the daring, intrigue, espionage and a spot of smuggling pays very well. Beverages and a good pastry were not the only things on the menu if the right request was made. For those inclined, keeping a low profile was essential.

One such customer seated there however, stood out like a sore thumb. A tailored black blazer over a white shirt, matching pair of slacks were matched with a horrendously outdated bowler hat and black umbrella, more at home in the stuffy halls at Whitehall rather than the rough streets of the East End. Said owner of this mismatched ensemble was a rather heavy set man with a nervous expression, red hair with a buzz cut and bushy beard contrasting his bulging green eyes which twitched at passing vehicles currently rolling down the street.

An observant bobby, if he had bothered to look further out of morbid curiosity, would also noticed that this strange man, while wearing clothes befitting the most stuffy of civil servants was also holding onto a copy of- horrors- the _Daily Mail_, a women's tabloid most male Londoners would never be caught dead in the open with.

As a private pleasure to be shared among consenting adults perhaps, but never flaunting it so openly for the world to see.

Of course, if the observer was even semi-literate, he would have also noticed this strange gentleman, parading a whole litany of errors, was holding said newspaper upside down.

One could hardly blame the copper if he walked away, disbelieving any potential spy or criminal could make so many mistakes at once and went away, convinced it was either an elaborate prank or a lunatic who had somehow failed to find Hyde Park and settled for the East End instead.

For Boris Bolkonsky, agent of the Tsar's Okrahna however, his disguise was a smashing success. His specialty had been Witch watching and today he had been chosen to cover a celebrity.

It was, all things considered, a simple mission. Observe Sakamoto Mio as she moved about in London and report if there is anything of interest when monitoring her movements. The cover story she had provided of course was that she was there to do some pre-wedding shopping and to "repay" an old debt to a certain person of interest known as Johan Helles of the _Serpent's Den_. Of course, no one visited Helles for a simple errand, so notorious as a smuggler was he among the close circles that made up the spy rings in London.

Famously jumpy, many threats had been made to get a bargain out of the infamous smuggler from many sides, but none had actually carried them out for fear of losing a convenient focal point from which to observe what the others were doing.

Helles did not know of his unique position of course, believing that it was mere neglect that his smuggling operations had not been busted and his person tossed into the Thames after a few bullet enemas.

But for the life of them, none of the myriad intelligence agencies monitoring Sakamoto Mio found anything out of the ordinary when she left the pawn shop. The only thing of interest was a shortwave radio Sakamoto had acquired from Helles, nothing more. Shaking down the Karslandish smuggler was not so unusual in itself, with Britannian and foreign agents alike doing so just to keep him humbled.

But what the Fusoan major had acquired from Helles was so utterly mundane that the consensus among all parties is something else had to have happened and Sakamoto was doing a good job preventing them from finding out. The Fuso Kempetai, the Fuso military intelligence slash military police, had reported nothing else out of the ordinary and took pains to inform their counterparts in the other Allied nations-an obvious tactic to throw them off their tracks.

Subsequent monitoring of Sakamoto turned out nothing, which led analysts in all the respective agencies to conclude she must be under very, very deep cover under orders from Tokyo for a mission that is still yet underdetermined.

Boris was determined that this time, he will have something more substantial to report back to his superiors in St Petersburg and finally crack the mystery and as a bonus one up the Britannians in their own capitol. No Fuso bumpkin is going to thwart the efforts of the mighty Orussian Empire's secret police!

Studying carefully reading material he had acquired regarding Britannian culture, he had carefully assembled his disguise himself to pose as a civil servant. After all, apparatchiks back home are the only ones to walk around unmolested, and he needed as little attention from local authorities as possible.

When he walked into the East End, a Home Guard patrol had passed him by after carefully scrutinizing him by staring at him for a couple of minutes before bemusedly marching off after he had doffed his hat off at them in greeting. Pleased that he had successfully intimidated the patrol disguised as a senior civil servant and thus evaded capture, his confidence that he had made the right choice in choosing the disguise soared after a couple of ruffians eyed him curiously, no doubt sizing him up for an extortion attempt before their faces distorted and the two turned and walked away shivering, obviously afraid to accost an obvious VIP.

Boris had also heard some barely muffled laughter from the two thugs as they departed. The Britannian sense of humour continues to elude the grizzly Orussian as he couldn't see what was so funny about being dressed properly for the occasion.

Dismissing it as a case of Britannian eccentrics to be studied at a later date, he folded his paper and settled into his chair, his eyes scanning the scenery and the people walking the streets and began the wait for his mark to appear.

* * *

It was the late afternoon as a borrowed RAF jeep rumbled into the East End carrying the trio of Mio, Junko and Yoshiko with Junko at the wheel. Pulling over outside the _Serpent's Den_, the driver glared daggers at her two passengers at the backseat who remained blissfully unaware of her growing irritation.

Mio was engrossed in reading a catalogue from the jeweller in Oxford Street which detailed in excruciating detail the origins and manufacturing process of the pair of matching diamond rings that Mio had bought for the ceremony.

The process by which the eye patched major had settled on the rings was elegantly simple. She walked into the shop and pointed to a salesman nearby she wanted the ring that was placed on a pedestal in the middle of the jewellers.

The whole shop went silent for a split second before bursting into a furore at the announcement and the trio were guided carefully by the store manager to an elegantly decorated room where several Gallian maids attended to their every need while the store manager himself prepared their purchase.

The rings themselves were a pair of gold bands with the initials of Mio and Minna carefully carved in cursive script on each ring upon the manager learning it was meant for a wedding ceremony. As an extra touch, their initials were carved in both Roman letters and Fusoan katakana letters, a nod to Mio's heritage. An oval cut diamond the size of a fingernail was carefully set onto the rings and they shimmered softly with an warm orange glow.

Junko thought with great envy that it was horribly unlikely whoever she ends up married to will actually get something quite so precious for her.

The staff at the shop were also extremely helpful once Mio had sealed the purchase by handing over an envelope full of pound sterling and they offered to make arrangements for the tailors to be flown over to Romagna for Minna's wedding dress. A matching pair of hardwood- hand carved, the manager had repeatedly emphasised- ring boxes were also provided as a complimentary gift while the caterers were called in.

Naturally, they were also horribly, horribly expensive and Junko didn't blame her friend for being very interested to know exactly what went into the jewellery that cost her close to seven thousand pounds each. After the fiftieth time Mio shared with her how the miners in Johannesburg risked life and limb to provide the rocks by jumping through lava lakes while braving man eating cave scorpions the size of tanks however, Junko was reaching the end of her tether.

The Ardour Witch commander was also doubtful as to how truthful the catalogue was. After all, everyone knew the cave scorpions in Africa were at least the size of battleships. Tanks? The hatchlings maybe.

Yoshiko on the other hand...

"Yoshiko, stop chewing so loudly. I can hear every single bite you take of that disgusting concoction they call food." said Junko.

"Hmm?"was her old comrade's only reply as she looked up from the dish she held in her left hand while clear, sticky gravy dripped down her chin and right hand. Bits of brown eel nested in a clear, thick gelatine gravy stirred when Yoshiko swallowed very audibly before thrusting the dish near Junko's face. "You want some of this jellied eel?"

Junko's reply was to recoil in disgust while retching. The Demon Queen had a notoriously picky palette and would refuse to eat anything that she deemed less than fresh. The freshly caught and prepared fresh water eels seemed to have her stamp of approval however and that was when Junko was reminded vividly of the other aspect of Yoshiko's dietary habits.

She had the table manners of a hungry Hokkaido brown bear rummaging through the garbage and was twice as loud.

"Get that thing away from me!"shouted Junko as she quickly left the got out of the driver's seat. Mio then stashed the catalogue away carefully in a shopping bag that bulged with the requested purchases of the other Strike Witches and got out of the jeep while Yoshiko shrugged as she finished the last pieces of eel in her dish.

" Suit yourself, that Orussian man staring at us seemed like he wouldn't mind having it though."

There was a slight pause before Mio and Junko asked in unison, "What Orussian man?"

"That middle aged tubby man with the beard, overdressed in a ridiculously outdated suit complete with bowler hat and black umbrella by the side?" replied the brown haired witch as she looked in the direction of Boris. The Orussian quickly hid lifted his newspaper upon noticing Yoshiko looking at him.

" He's reading a women's tabloid and he is holding the paper upside down." remarked Junko flatly.

Mio let out a hearty laugh, "You know what they say. Only in the streets of London do you get something like this. They produce nutters like nowhere else. "

Junko sighed and resolved to ignore the eccentric staring at them. Turning to Mio, she asked, "What are we doing at a smuggler's shop?"

The eye patched witch shot her a confused look, "Smuggler's shop? I thought this was a pawn shop?"

"It's a pawn shop located in a street crawling with spies and criminals while openly displaying several categories of contraband in the storefront window. How can you possibly believe this was a legitimate business. "pointed out Junko.

"The old Karslandish owner was such a nice man! He gave me the radio for free when I told him I didn't bring enough money. "protested Mio.

Junko pondered her friend's words for a moment, "You _extorted_ the radio you gave Wing Commander Minna?"

"It wasn't like that! I was looking around and noticed he had some radios stashed away. So I asked him for them and informed him I didn't have enough money." Mio tried to explain.

"So you discovered that he was peddling contraband and got a free radio in return for not ratting him out? Nice!"interjected Yoshiko who had overheard the conversation.

Junko raised her hands to pre-empt Mio and cut off any further protests. "Let's just get it over with?" Pushing open the doors, Junko led the way while Mio followed closely behind, shoulders hanging dejectedly. Yoshiko entered last, humming to herself happily.

Boris Bolkonsky flipped his newspaper and grinned down in triumph as she noticed the Fusoan trio move into the pawn shop. While not understanding the Fusoan they spoke, obviously they were awed at his presence and that Sakamoto had even laughed in joy at her good fortune.

Truly, his art of disguise was unmatched.

* * *

Johan Helles looked up from his account books as he heard the bells ring, anticipating another customer. Ever since that blasted Fusoan witch left his shop one and half years ago, he had been regularly questioned by the Home Guard while the encounters of foreign spymasters interrogating him at weapon point had increased twofold.

His usual businesslike smile disappeared as he witnessed not one, not two, but THREE of those damned Fusoan witches carrying their long swords enter his shop. Shivering as he recognised the one in the middle as the same witch that had caused him all his troubles, his heart sank further as he spied an irritated look on the leading witch with short hair while the one with the flowing scarf at the end wore a predatory grin he was only too familiar with.

He wondered if it was time to move back to the Continent.

Vienna, despite being the frontline of the Neuroi war, seemed nice this time of the year.

"Did you see the look on his face?" crowed Yoshiko as she stepped out of the _Serpent's Den_, "He looked like he was afraid I was going to eat him alive. "

You'd eat anything. "muttered Junko as she struggled to get the image of the jellied eels out of her head. Turning to Mio who was placing a newly bought radio onto the back seat of the jeep, she was about to tell Mio it's time to go home before she notice the eye patched witch stiffen and reach for her weapon.

"It's too quiet." growled the major as she moved into a basic stance.

Both Junko and Yoshiko reacted similarly and drew their own weapons, the blades starting to glow with a faint light as magic poured into their blades and their animal ears manifested in response. Forming into a triangle with Yoshiko covering their rear, the Fusoan witches noticed that the street was now clear of traffic, both human and vehicle and the whole street seemed darker, as if shrouded in shadows. Yet. the air seemed warm and balmy, as if they were standing in a heated room.

"This is an awfully familiar sensation. "remarked Junko as she scoured the area for threats.

"You should." said Mio. "This is the same feeling we get when we use an active Striker Unit."

"But we aren't using any Strikers now..." Yoshiko let her question fade away.

"It's more like we are_ inside_ the Striker Unit right now." explained Mio. _Creating a pocket dimension in an entire street fare beyond the confines of a Striker Unit. Never thought it could actually be done. _Mio thought_._

_But if I am actually inside a pocket dimension_, _just maybe_, thought Mio as she concentrated on establishing the psychic link with her Doberman familiar. After she had lost her magic following the Yamato incident, the Fusoan major stopped her daily mediation exercise which allowed her to manifest her magic. There was no longer any point, and the lack of response from her familiar only broke her heart. But now, in this space chock full of magical energy...

_I can feel it! _Mioexperienced a surge of warm tingly sensation wash over her as the familiar prickly, warm embrace of magic washed over her and she felt the strong yet eager presence of her canine familiar. Grey dog ears appeared on the top of her head and a long fluffy tail manifested even as her magic circle glowed a bright brilliant blue like the stars.

"Glad to see the research bear fruit. "said a female voice in Britannian. The Fusoan trio turned their attention to a lone figure approach them. Wearing a Gatsby cap that obscured the eyes, the stranger had hip length black hair tied into twin braids. A sharp nose and pale skin contrasted with her pink lips curled into a smirk. Unmistakably Asian features, but none of the Fusoans present were able to match her accent to something they were familiar with and conclude her identity only that she was not from Fuso.

Dressed in a navy blue figure hugging shirt that emphasised her rather obvious chest matched with a mandarin collar, the stranger wore a pair of bright yellow bloomers and brown loafers. A pair of swords with broad blades hung from her sides. The one on her left was had a golden hilt with matching tassel while the right was a similar design sporting emerald green.

"The ability to use and enhance magic without restriction and the need for a Striker Unit." continued the newcomer. "Truly a worthy goal, isn't it?"

Spreading her arms open, she revealed a grapefruit sized Neuroi core in her right hand. Ripples formed in the air and six men dressed in the Home Guard uniform appeared. The Fusoan witches eyes widened in shock as they noticed the men were equipped with Land Striker units- pieces of metal resembling boxy knee length boots with tracks on the back and the bottom- and Thompson sub machine guns, the rumbling of their engines echoing throughout the street.

"Of course, having that extra boost still helps. " smiled the stranger.

Lowering her arms, she ordered. "Capture the one with the eye patch. Kill the rest. " The Neuroi Core then floated into the air while shadows obscured the stranger before she disappeared from view.

"Incoming!"warned Junko as the six Home Guard swarmed towards them in a wedge formation, their guns blazing. Junko and Yoshiko deployed their own shields as the guns of their assailants roared and magically enhanced rounds pounded them. Junko realised with dread that the enemy planned to lay down enough withering fire before closing in to finish them off where their enhanced shots will likely break their shields. Without their own Strikers backing them up...

"Junko, distract them. "said Mio before leaping into the enemy formation, her sword blazing with azure flame. Before Junko could react, Yoshiko charged to Mio's left, her shield glowing brightly as bursts machinegun fire pounded against it.

The Land Strikers hesitated on whether to fire upon their target they were ordered to take alive and this hesitation proved fatal.

"Reppuzan!"

With a cry, Mio swung her sword and a crescent of blue energy surged outwards from her weapon towards them. Three of the Land Strikers were caught in the wave and despite deploying their own shields, their own protection wavered and shattered. Small explosions engulfed their Land Strikers as they were put out of commission and they were flung into a nearby building causing the walls to crack and smoke to emit from the now destroyed magical machines.

The remaining Home Guard who witnessed their buddies go down decided to abandon hesitation and opened fire on Mio, who started to dodge frantically to dodge the constant bursts of gunfire, her movements enhanced by the magic currently coursing through her.

Taking full advantage of their current preoccupation with the eye patched witch, Yoshiko charged towards the closest Land Striker who turned towards her and deployed a shield as Yoshiko's katana slammed against it, sending sparks flying as sword met the shield.

"Break!"yelled Yoshiko as an extra surge of magic caused the sword to prevail, shattering the shield and finding its mark on the man's shoulder. It sliced deep downward, sending blood spurting out of the gaping wound. Yoshiko was driven into a blood lust by the coppery smell of her kill and followed up with three rapid successive jabs to the man's throat to prevent him from crying out. Using the blade as a skewer, she tossed her victim towards another Home Guard, causing a dust cloud and flying pieces of their Land Strikers as they crashed together.

The last remaining Home Guard started snarling as he witnessed the fate of his team mates, bemoaning the fact that his superiors had underestimated the battle strength of his quarry so badly. Even armed with Strikers while his targets were not, six of them were barely enough to take them on. As he contemplated fleeing, he felt the cold touch of steel to the back of his neck.

"Don't move. We are hoping to take you in alive, _if_ we can. "warned Junko. The emphasis on if spelled out clearly they weren't hesitant to use lethal force .

As the Fusoans moved to secure their prisoner, the floating Neuroi Core shattered in a burst of white debris . The afternoon sun suddenly started shining again while human and vehicle traffic began to reappear. At the same time Mio felt the warm touch of magical energy leave her abruptly and the link with her beloved Doberman severed.

_At least this confirms that the restoration of my magic was due to the expanded pocket dimension_, thought Mio to herself. Despite being mentally prepared, the tinge of despair that it was not a miraculous cure still cut deep.

Keeping their weapons firmly pointed at their prisoner, the trio started noticing that they were suddenly the centre of attention.

" Everyone is looking at us. " Yoshiko finally said after several awkward minutes.

"Maybe because we are pointing weapons at a Home Guard wearing a Land Striker with several dead or dying Guards around us?" said Junko dryly. "Attracts all kinds of attention."

"Make that dead Guards. "interrupted Mio. Junko turned her attention back to her prisoner and noticed that he was very, very pale. Yoshiko pried open his mouth and peered in. "Other than bad oral hygiene, I'd say he swallowed a suicide pill."

As blaring sirens approached, Mio wondered if she'd still be back in time for dinner.

* * *

" All preparations are complete Wing Commander, Ma'am. Any further orders?"

"That will be all, Quartermaster. Please pass on my thanks to the logistics staff and inform them they will each have an additional three days of leave." said Minna with a beaming smile.

"I am sure the boys will be delighted at your generosity, Commander. Now if there is nothing else." The base quartermaster, a medium built Romagnan with a bulging beer belly and bushy grey moustache, gave a crisp salute before turning on his heel and marching off.

Minna sighed as she watched the veteran soldier march towards the interior of the castle. The chaos of the past two days had worked her support units to the bone in cleaning up the mess and preparing to accommodate the sudden influx of so many guests and equipment.

Still, the logistics and supplies supporting regiments had performed admirably. Minna promised herself that she will be sure to follow up with individual commendations for all the soldiers serving in them.

Turning her attention to the crimson sky as the sun began setting, Minna smiled as the entire 501st Joint Fighter Wing waiting in parade formation for the arrival of General Major Adolfine Galland who was due to arrive shortly.

Choosing who was to make up the parade honour guard was relatively simple. Of the twelve witches in the Wing, Barkhorn, Erica, Eila, Shirley and herself were the ones with the necessary formal dress uniforms, presence and ability, with varying degrees of course, to show in a parade. Shirley, with proper motivation can be trusted to display the needed discipline and bearing expected of someone of her rank.

Barkhorn literally thrived on such regimentation and had actually insisted on making Erica participate in the honour guard, claiming full responsibility in getting her ship shape.

It was also nice to have an opportunity to wear the full dress uniform. Ditching her usual olive green coat, Minna was dressed in the formal light grey military coat, complete with gloves, collar patches, and a silver braided cord. Her own rank insignia and Knight's Cross was polished to parade shine. Wearing her peaked cap, Minna's chin itched at the unfamiliar touch of the braided silver chin strap.

As for the other witches...

Sanya, bless her heart, was mostly half awake during the day. While it was approaching the time when she would be up and about, there was just something about the wispy, waif like Orussian that made her not suitable for the parade square. Besides, Eila would be too distracted if her long time partner was to be there. By herself, the Suomus witch was a rather competent, if arrogant and abrasive officer.

Lucchini was well, Lucchini. A storm of trouble and bouncing activity absolutely not suitable for the regimented pomp and pageantry of a formal parade. Perrine, other than the fact that the Free Gallian Air force lacked proper dress uniforms, was also still in the grieving stage. Minna felt a stab of guilt as she recalled the breakdown of the blonde witch during her confession. All's fair in love and war, but it didn't stop her from feeling like a heel. Miyafuji Yoshika was basically a civilian volunteer enlisted directly into the 501st, automatically excluding her.

Then there was Lynne.

Lynette Bishop despite technically being in the 601st Fighter Wing of the RAF was never given a proper uniform and likely instruction in drill, dressing mostly in her civilian school uniform with sewn on rank and unit insignia. It was not these factors that was key in having her excluded however.

General Major Adolfine Galland, really, _really _liked the Spitfire. She had a model of the plane in her office and made sure a suitable replica was available at any new location she was deployed to. Other than the plane though, the general also had an obsession with the witches piloting them and her latest object of interest was Lynne. Minna could hardly believe her ears when Galland said she would like "that Lynne girl from the 501st" during one of the meetings she had. The general had later clarified it was meant as a joke with a straight face, but some discreet checks with Helma and Ursula who were both serving in Galland's experimental Jet Striker Unit revealed that her commanding general actually had a body pillow with the likeliness of the Britannian sniper imprinted on it.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Minna resolved to keep her superior far, far away from Lynne and to make sure they were never alone together.

From the horizon, the buzz of approaching planes alerted Minna to an approaching aircraft, bearing the Karsland national flag of an bold black X on a white circle surrounded by red as well as the two golden diamonds surrounded by a golden wreath signalling the rank of the passenger.

" Attention! General Major present! All ranks, salute!" Barkhorn's booming voice echoed across the runway as the present Witches and two supporting details of Romagnan soldiers snapped to attention.

The modified dull gray and yellow He-111 dual engine bomber came to a perfect halt next to the steps and the military band began playing a welcome march. Minna herself snapped to attention and saluted as the plane doors opened.

Adolfine stepped out of the plane dressed in her usual ensemble of bomber jacket, field army coat and man's olive green pants, with a nod to protocol as she wore a peaked cap with golden braided chin strap and her own Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves gleamed in the disappearing sunlight.

The general appeared incredulous at the sight of the welcome that had been given to her. Scowling at Minna once she noticed her salute, the general returned a quick salute before walking over to the redhead.

Shaking Minna's extended hand, Adolfine pulled Minna in close and whispered to her, "I thought I told you I hate having to inspect parades."

Minna gave a beaming smile as she replied, "And I hate all the paperwork too. "

_Despite her motherly demeanour, this redhead can be very petty at times_, thought the general to herself.

Following closely behind her to the left, a witch dressed in a black Karsland uniform and garrison cap approached bearing the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel on her collars. Her shirt was pitch black unlike the lighter tone favoured by Erica and she stood several inches taller than her colleagues at around five foot eight. The guest's square chin was accentuated by thick red lips and rounded cheeks, spotting slight tan. A bow shaped scar cut across the lower left of her face, giving her a sinister look. Dark brown shoulder length hair tied into dreadlocks, her almond shaped eyes were an emerald green. Wearing standard white witch pants, a pair of grey canvas shoes seemed to be her preferred choice of foot wear. A Rottweiler's black and brow tail swayed around casually.

To the right of the general was a lithe civilian women who was wearing a white coat over a cream coloured blouse and grey mini skirt with a pair of black pumps. Long straight flowing blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, she wore a cheerful expression that accented her thin pink lips and rounded cheek, her oval black eyes gleamed with anticipation as if seeing the world for the first time while it roamed the assembled Witches. As if to confirm the stereotype of Liberion woman, she was...gifted in the chest area and her thick coat did nothing to hide her curves. A pair of grey rabbit ears popped out and twitched as the civilian woman stretched her arms.

Pulling her jacket closer, Adolfine said, " It's getting cold so I will keep this introduction short and sweet. This is Lieutenant Colonel Olivia Skorzeny who was recently attached to me and this is Doctor Nancy Jessica Oppenheimer from United States of Liberion, New Hispania."

Grinning widely, the general continued. "We come bearing gifts. Let's go inside so we can unwrap them."

* * *

Author's notes.

Update notes: Some changes made to the description of Olivia as well as the proper spelling of her surname. Also changed the plane Adolfine's entourage travelled in. Many thanks to kittle-uk for pointing it out.

This chapter's long, long, long. I hope you readers won't be turned off by my sudden desire to ramble and provide more detail to the scenes. It's just that going over my earlier work, the scarcity of detail would make it difficult for readers to envision it.

As always, please review. Hate it, love it, have some suggestions for anything, please let me know, Always good to hear from fellow fans until the movie comes out.

Olivia Skorzeny is based off Otto Skorzeny, an SS commando famous for some of the more daring raids of the 2nd World War. As for Doctor Oppenheimer, most of you readers familiar with the Manhattan Project ought to be familiar with this famed surname.

The mysterious figure Mio and friends will be elaborated later on, and Dr Oppenheimer will be providing some needed explanation of the incident with the Neuroi Core in London. Also, Adolfine has Olivia with her for a reason.

Until Chapter 5- The Reception.


	5. Chapter 5 The Reception

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 5: The Reception.**

Adolfine Galland typically hates official occasions and as a general rule, the more formal and pompous, the greater her loathing of it.

All things considered however, a welcome dinner at the mess hall among old friends and colleagues rather than a cabal of back stabbing politicians in uniform as is the norm wasn't too bad. That freshly prepared Romagnan cuisine was involved was a welcome bonus.

Fresh Fuso produce and dishes she had developed a taste for available at the meal despite the last minute nature of her arrival? _Very _welcome.

Having bid adieu to Fusoan dishes since the Fuso Sea Incident six years ago, Adolfine's eyes sparkled at the spread laid out on the commander's table set up at the end of the mess hall. Bottles of sake in glazed glass bottles and elegant grey and brown tokkuri ceramic flasks lined the tables while small white cylindrical cups that glowed against the light fittings in the cavernous hall.

A single crystal chandelier, left behind by the previous owners of the castle has been polished and it reflected the newer electric lights, illuminating the room with darting beams as the breeze from the opened windows caused the fixture to spin slowly.

The feast prepared for the occasion was a mix of Fusoan, Karslandish and Romagnan. Fresh bright slices of sashimi on miniature boats vied for space on the table with silver platters of sausages, roasted trotters and sauerkraut. Plates of Romagnan chocolates wrapped in silver and gold foil were placed side by side generous slices of cheese and brightly coloured dishes of pasta. Taking the place of honour in the centre of the feast laid a magnificent side of roast beef covered in gravy with potatoes on the side being carved out by a white gloved orderly.

A similar spread was laid out on the main dining table where the other Witches sat and the Romagnan garrison joined in the celebration, with foldable tables spread out at the corners of the room.

The intoxicating aroma of fine Romagnan vintage filled the nostrils of Adolfine as it freely flowed among the glasses of the older witches, mundane soldiers and those so inclined to ignore drinking restrictions while bottles of Liberion soft drinks were removed from buckets filled with ice much to the delight of the younger witches.

It was a magnificent spread and the general did not remember ever having arranged for it.

"Who exactly is paying...wait." Adolfine paused for awhile before continuing. Payment was the least of the issues she can think of at the top of her head that such an event would require. "Let me rephrase that. Who arranged for all these?"

Even with the exceptions made for Witches, shipping restrictions and rationing would have made half the items currently displayed on the banquet tables impossible to acquire without a lot of hands greased and heads turning the other side.

Minna smiled as she placed her glass against the general's own, "Duchess Maria insisted on supplying us once she received the telegraph informing her of the wedding, general."

Waving a gloved hand over the feast laid out, she continued, "All of these are provided compliments of Her Grace, Duchess Maria Pier Di Romagna and St Portia's Palace."

Adolfine raised an eyebrow as her subordinate mentioned the young ruler's name specifically, "The palace and the Duchess?" she asked.

"The Government of the Dukedom of Romagna had offered to host the event. I declined, seeing as it would not be appropriate to accept the offer from the host government and the Romagnan taxpayers." Taking a sip off her glass, Minna continued, "The Palace however, insists this would be a personal gesture from Her Grace. Not a single cent or favour from the Romagnan Government that isn't the Duchess's own to give out without interference from parliament."

Adolfine nodded in appreciation at the savvy displayed by her protégé. _She's grown sharper_ _still compared to the aborted beginning of Operation Barbarossa_, thought the general as she remembered the aborted crossing of the Rhine and retaking of the Karsland homeland.

Eyeing the ever smiling visage of the wing commander whose cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine, Adolfine winced as she witness Minna deftly mix a generous dollop of freshly grated wasabi with a slice of tuna before downing the whole thing in a swift flick of her chopsticks.

_Her palate is still as invincible as ever as well_, pondered Adolfine of her subordinate's ability to not just tolerate, but enjoy some the nastiest tasting cuisine from the world that left less experienced gourmets reeling. She noticed the redhead help herself to another generous helping of the famously pungent horseradish paste. Taking a significantly smaller serving of the paste and applying it to a piece of salmon, Adolfine choked and dropped her chopsticks as her eyes watered and she felt liquid fire stream down her throat and nostrils.

_The Duchess certainly did not skimp on this treat. This is genuine Fusoan wasabi they're serving here. It's as searing on my insides as I remember it_. Reaching for a glass of water helpfully provided by Olivia, she snapped her neck around and glared at her dining partner after hearing a single but audible chuckle. For her part, the scarred witch remained stone faced and seemingly oblivious, her attention focused on her own glass.

Her new adjutant had proven exceedingly competent in matters of soldiery and the training programmes she set up leave no grounds for her to complain, but Adolfine couldn't help but feel that her newly acquired staffs was there to guard her in all senses of the word.

It was already unusual for an officer of Olivia's rank to be posted as an adjutant for her rather than having a command of her own, but her aide's background was what caused Adolfine to worry.

A rarity among Witches, Olivia started out as a Land Witch and cut her teeth piloting the Panzer Mk 1 during the evacuation of Karsland but had since grown into a new role. A role that the Allied high command had not planned for but decided to incorporate due to...shifting circumstances.

During those turbulent days of the delaying action, she stayed behind as a rearguard and was left for dead after her unit was cut off and contact lost. Appearing in the safety of Hispania five months later sans Strikers, her reappearance was reported to the Karsland brass which is already preoccupied coordinating yet _another _retreat from Gallia to Britannia. It was also at that time that Adolfine first heard of Olivia's exploits.

Claiming to have engaged in sabotage and raids deep in Neuroi territory- a skill set taught to Witches and other personnel at high risk of capture- but not one which was seriously contemplated being put to good use against an enemy not needing either supplies or logistics to the best of their knowledge.

Olivia's claim was summarily dismissed as the deluded ramblings of personnel who had survived a harrowing encounter with the enemy and was given three months leave to recover before being put back into active service.

The next three years proved uneventful and as she alternated between several COs, it looked as if she may serve out the end of her career with little to her name. She was a good soldier, but awful as a colleague and consistently stayed without a command despite her ever rising rank.

It was during the aftermath of the failed Operation Trajunus however, that Olivia got a chance to shine. Following the fall of Venezia, the majority of the Venezian government attempted to flee pass the Alps into Gallia, but the convoy was intercepted and majority of the travellers killed. What little remained of the new Venetian government in exile was now trapped in the Alps, where either the Neuroi or the oncoming winter will finish the job.

Olivia, who was at the time in Southern Gallia and charged with refugee relief duty, then requisitioned a pair of Panther land Strikers along with ammunition and rations from an incoming Karsland relief column.

Though lacking the proper papers, the quartermaster was disinclined to argue with her, as he was tied up with rope and gagged. Rallying a dozen of similarly disgruntled Witches, Olivia launched what would later be retroactively named as Operation Oak and scoured the Alps for two months, avoiding Neuroi patrols and managing to liberate what remained of the Venezian government before the onset of winter killed the fragile civilians hiding in the mountains.

Following her successful rescue, the high command could no longer afford to ignore Olivia and it was at this point that Adolfine stepped in.

Though isolated politically among the high command, the Witch general went to town with the riveting tale of the heroic rescue by a group of dashing heroines, capturing the imagination of a public again leery of the war effort after a major setback for the Human Alliance. Though the gesture won her some measure of respite from her venomous peers and gotten the rogue Witches a pardon at the insistence of the remaining leadership of Venezia, Adolfine knew that the clock had started ticking when the other generals would move to remove her with any excuse they can find.

Olivia for her part revelled in the sense of celebrity and the scarred Witch was soon given a nickname by admiring Karsland troops in honour of her achievements.

_Die__Hexe__aus__der Hölle- _The Witch from Hell.

All in all, Olivia has a pedigree that should have any ambitous commander salivating at the chance to have in his or her command, no doubt glamorous and if nothing else, useful as bragging rights among their fellow generals.

She was also however, as anyone who ever commanded her came to realise, an insufferable git prone to bouts of insubordination, giving lip to superior officers, general rowdy behavoiour on and off duty whle displaying prima donna behaviour worthy of some of the most petulant Witches in the entire Allied forces and a tendency to grab the last cup of pudding at the mess hall.

Most commanders, human and Witch alike, preferred to play catch with a unpinned frag grenade rather than have her in their command. Prior to her current posting as Adolfine's aide, Olivia was given her orders and generally left alone, the High Command not being able to find a more senior officer willing to tolerate her.

That was among the _human_ commanders of course. Witches on the other hand had less say in who was to be assigned to them. Before long, one of the few Witches able to operate behind enemy lines- and kept there- was posted to the command of an air force general that is facing pressure from the majority of her peers due to her distinction of being a member of the brass and a Witch.

Chatter in the mess halls was abuzz with speculation over the ultimate fate of the odd couple. Phrases like "one fell swoop", coup de grace" "dishonourable discharge" and for the morbid, "multiple accidental discharges with personal sidearm to skull" was liberally applied as to their likely outcome.

Adolfine herself however, was more than happy to let the rumour mill pull overtime and worked relentlessly to ensure that everyone assumed she was saddled with a command she in which she had no say in the matter and had troubled her greatly.

The rumour mongers only got half the truth correct. The witch general did not have a say in the matter as command of Olivia was thrust upon her but Adolfine had gone out of her way to _ensure_ that her superiors would be keeping this unusual pairing at the top of their heads and for it to be made as soon as possible. Constantly rubbing in the faces of her colleagues of her status as the only Witch in the general ranks and adding in Olivia's inborn tendency to upset her superiors, it didn't take too long for Command's instincts to run its course and arrange for both irritants to be placed in a single convenient package to be dealt with at the nearest opportunity.

Of course, the commando Witch proved as prickly as the rumours suggested and seemed to go out of her way to antagonise her supposed superior and saviour while avoiding open confrontation, as if daring the general to have her court marshalled after rescuing her from one.

Adolfine kept her new subordinate on a long leash and so far pretended not to see the little and not so little hints of rebellion. Her future plans depend on having a Witch of Olivia's skills, and she's been the only one who reliably provided them.

"And then, the roof top blew up so hard, wood chips and saw dust covered all those old fogeys from Harvard and some other colleges whose names I forgot threw a fit! I mean, the worst thing that happened to them were some splinters in their hair, "huffed Dr Nancy Oppenheimer in her rough Brooklyn drawl which made her sound much older than her early twenties.

Without Adolfine noticing, the doctor had sauntered over from the commander's table over to where the younger Witches of the 501st and Eila had gathered, the right arm of the Suomus Witch snaked around Sanya protectively as if daring anyone to try and separate her from her paramour.

Adolfine smiled inwardly as she noticed the Liberion scientist's actions. The good doctor was a brilliant mind and despite her penchant for destruction in her experiments, suited the forward looking general's taste for ever more exotic application of current technologies and their continued development just fine.

The Liberion scientist was animatedly recalling one of the many demonstrations she had performed for her peers back in Buenos Aeries, Neue Karsland. This particular incident involved a magic dynamo engine, dozens of the finest minds in the fields of applied physics and the relatively new field of Neuroi study, xenobiolgy and a Bunsen burner.

The final casualty count was twenty applied physics professors suffering from temporary loss of hearing, twelve with multiple splinters in their scalp, three allergic reactions and everyone covered in sawdust from the disintegrated roof.

"They complained that I had risked their lives for an utterly frivolous experiment, whining that they were in danger of being crushed by the roof." thundered Oppenheimer as she recalled their reactions to that particular mishap. While there were certainly other more destructive episodes, this particular case was notable for the sheer number of dignitaries affected.

"Nonsense!"continued the blonde Liberion to no one in particular as she continued wringing her hands wildly to the air, "The roof was in so many fine, tiny pieces none of them were in any danger of being crushed! Besides, some of their skulls are so thick I can have Barkhorn here chuck a boulder at them and they'd only feel a light breeze," ranted the scientist before slamming down her glass to the nervous laughter of the Witches at the table.

The Karsland general felt a very familiar throbbing in her head. Her other head researcher Ursula Hartmann can be just as destructive in exhibiting an utter disregard for safety precautions in the lab when lost in her work, but Dr Oppenheimer relished in the pushing of limits of safety regulations for the heck of it.

Adolfine suspected the blonde scientist had a secret personal goal to see how big she can make an explosion without killing anyone and that the Liberion was doing a poor job in hiding it.

On the other hand however, she was _very_ entertaining when dealing with her petulant land Witch subordinate...

Adolfine allowed herself an evil grin as she noticed the blonde Liberion saunter back to the commander's table, bored at her newfound company's lack of reaction and plonk herself right next to Olivia whose expression turned murderous the minute Oppenheimer's buttocks touched the chair.

_Fireworks in three, two, one,_ mused the general as she tried to hide her reaction by sipping from her glass.

"Neh, Li-chan." drawled the Liberion scientist in a pitch two octaves higher than her usual tone while pulling on Olivia's sleeves. Feeling the target of her attention stiffen, the blonde rested her head on Olivia's left shoulder while ignoring the darkening expression of the scarred Witch whose dreadlocks had started to stir in response to her increasing agitation.

Adolfine always wondered how it was that an adult in her mid twenties like Oppenheimer could mimic the tone and voice of a pre-teen so well. It would be a useful trick on some of her bosses with more...questionable tastes.

"Stop whining like a Fusoan schoolgirl and stop calling me that, Oppenheimer!"snapped the irate Karslander."Act your age!"

"But you told me you liked it when I called you Li-chan. "sniffed the scientist at the land Witch's reaction, her expressive eyes wet with tears. , "Last night in your room, and all the other nights before you told me you loved it when I called you that. "

"The only reason you were in my room was because you snuck in during the middle of the night without my permission! And you simply _had _to do that while in the nude!" Olivia then felt a sinking sensation and paled as she realised what that last detail sounded like.

Adolfine sunk her teeth into a hunk of roast in an attempt to stifle her laughter and failed miserably, her shoulders heaving as she struggled to maintain composure.

"You've been having sex with Doc Oppenheimer here?" asked Shirley casually while she clasped her hands over Lucchini's ears instinctively, her young charge having disregarded protocol and found her way to the officer's table. The young Romagnan was as cheeky and, the Liberion captain admitted probably had a dirtier mind than most sailors on shore leave. Her maternal feelings with the younger witch however made her act on instinct.

"Hey Trudy, doesn't this sound like what usually happens with us?" teased Erica while she jabbed her partner in the ribs with her elbow.

"Number One. There is no 'us'. Number two, your side of the room is so filthy, I have better chance of doing the tango over a minefield blindfolded unscathed than crossing over to your bed undetected!"huffed Barkhorn.

"Ms Barkhorn? Does that mean you did try sneaking in Ms Hartmann's bed nightly? "asked Yoshika innocently.

"Miyafuji?" sputtered out the Luftwaffe captain nervously. "That was not what I meant! I'm not sleeping with Hartmann! "

"But if you're not planning to sleep with Ms Hartmann, why are you trying to sneak into her bed?" continued the young Fusoan.

"I wasn't sneaking into anyone's bed!"fumed the captain before she decided against digging herself deeper and sat down, trying to ignore the snickering Erica next to her.

"She's telling the truth, Yoshika."said Erica. "She won't try anything unless I dress up like her sister, Chris." added Erica with a devious smile and causing Barkhorn to choke on her thanks to Erica for the rescue.

"Leave Chris out of this, Hartmann!" raged Barkhorn as she shook a giggling Erica by the collar.

It was moments like this that make the Karsland captain _wish_ there was a minefield to dance in blindfolded.

As the commotion started gaining momentum and the customary pandemonium threatened to erupt, a voice rang out from the entrance to the mess hall.

"Major Sakamoto Mio, reporting back to base, Wing Commander. My deepest apologies for my tardiness, General Galland." Mio walked into the hall looking the worse for wear and flanked by Junko and Yoshiko, their swords hanging from their sides. Several Romagnan soldiers left their tables to assist the numerous bags the trio of Fusoan Witches were carrying.

"Mio! I was so worried about you! "exclaimed Minna as she ran towards her fiancé and allowed the major to hug her in a deep embrace, propriety and decorum forgotten as relief flooded over her at the sight of Mio's safe return.

"Sorry I made you worry, Minna." said Mio gently while stroking her hair.

"I assume you have quite a tale to regale us with, Major Sakamoto," said Adolfine as she sipped from a sake cup.

"I do, "nodded the major."I also have a few questions which I believe a certain Dr Oppenheimer who is supposed to accompany you have the answers for."

Turning her attention to Mio at the mention of her name, the blonde scientist brushed her tresses idly while flashing a leering smile, "Questions for me? Always glad to help an exotic beauty like yourself."

...

The only other time Sakamoto Mio ended up in a police station was when she had gotten seriously lost as a four years old child. The country police post in her village near Maizuru back in Fuso where she was a simple shed with a single telegraph, telephone and exactly one cop.

The headquarters in Scotland Yard of the Metropolitan Police, commonly known as the Met by law abiding Londoners and the bloody cop shop by those who are not, by contrast was a splendid Victorian edifice whose usual visitors are less savoury.

After the battle with the six Home Guards, the Fusoan trio had surrendered peacefully to the police without much hassle. While the Home Guard had approached them armed to the teeth with intent to kill, the bobbies had the decency to approach them openly, ask for their surrender and made no visible attempt to harm them.

_Well_, thought Mio to herself while she rubbed her wrists where the handcuffs had been, _Junko and me went quietly. Yoshiko on the other hand had to be disarmed and subdued by myself and Junko._

The Met had compounded her vehicle and shopping, and confiscated her sword before escorting them to the back of a paddy wagon. Small mercies that war time censorship prevented her face from being splashed all over the front pages accompanied by inflammatory headlines screeching _Brave Britannian lads murdered by cowardly Oriental Witches_.

Once at Scotland Yard however, it was not the police that had interrogated them after leading them to a windowless room but rather Britannian Army personnel. Telling the details of the encounter truthfully seemed to confound her interrogators, their disbelief written all over their expression as she gave her account.

Not that she blamed them though. The shock of non Witches- and the fact that there was no manifestation of familiar body parts on the Home Guard were proof they were not in fact male Witches- operating Strikers also led to her questioning if she was not in fact dreaming the whole episode. The adrenaline wearing off also made her realise how exhausted she was after spending the entire day outside.

_Still, the tea served here is excellent_, thought the eye patched witch as she sipped from her mug.

The sound of the door opening prompted Mio to look up and sit ramrod straight as a man with dark hair, double eye lids and a dour expression on his chiselled face wearing a Royal Navy uniform walked in holding a clipboard.

"Mr Sakamoto of the Fusoan Imperial Navy I presume?" said the man in a crisp accent.

"MS Sakamoto, thank you very much." replied Mio icily. To her great annoyance, her impending marriage to Minna and her consent to being listed as the "husband" on the marriage certificates had created quite a legal tangle in countries where the spouses were not gender neutral- which is basically every country in the world.

It was legal fiction that Mio never thought she'd encounter in real life rather than in some absurdist play. The phrase _legally true, factually not_ rang in her head for as far as the courts were concerned regarding her impending marital status, she was a man.

The man allowed himself a ghost of a smile before continuing. "Gender issues aside, Major Sakamoto." the navy man being kind enough to use her rank instead, "I am here to inform you that we are considering charges of six counts of destroying government property, four counts of destruction of private property, three counts of illegal use of a weapon and illegal parking."

Mio blinked as she realised something was missing from the list of charges, "No murder of a government servant?"

"Had this happened a week ago at Dover airbase, we would be obliged to give you a medal. The six Striker Units were stolen and none of the six corpses we recovered were even Britannian, let alone Home Guard. "stated the navy officer.

Or rather, he understated. The implications of Striker Units being stolen and used against Witches by persons unknown were vast and her interviewer behaved as if he was talking about a cricket match over a pot of tea and cucumber sandwiches.

_Britannian stiff upper lip in action I'd wager, though I really feel like giving him a fat one right now_, thought Mio as she considered the nonchalant manner of her interviewer. "So I went shopping for my big day and instead I stumble into an incident involving an unknown group. Said group managed to let non Witches use Strikers, create some kind of enclosed space that resembles something you see after ingesting mushrooms you have no business ingesting and tried to murder three Witches in the streets of London. "

"I fail to see why this would be a matter of any importance, officer. " said Mio dryly as she threw her hands in the air in frustration to demonstrate she _does_ in fact think that this is a serious matter.

"Such a petulant display of emotion doesn't suit you, Major, "chuckled the older man."Still, having to deal with the tossers who make up the bulk of our illustrious leadership means it'd be therapeutic to let go sometime, isn't it?" causing the dark haired Witch to raise an eyebrow at the casual use of expletives to describe their leaders. Looking closer at her interviewer, Mio realised he wore no rank insignia.

"You finally caught on, Major Sakamoto. Don't bother looking for any identifying markings or something like that." remarked the Britannian as he noticed Mio's attention to his uniform, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ian from a classified group known as the Special Operations Executive, though we prefer to go by the name of Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare." said her interviewer with a smirk.

"And what does your..._ministry_ do, Ian." Warfare and especially the modern variety were almost never gentlemanly but the way her interrogator's employers wore the tag that they were sneaky and underhanded did not seat well with her.

"Set Europe ablaze, although we aren't too picky on the choice of landmass where we conduct our work." replied the not-Royal Navy interviewer. Smiling, the older man then began looking at the clipboard.

"If your statement to our colleagues were truthful, and considering the supporting statements of your comrades and the lack of opportunity to create a cover story we have no reason to doubt you were, then you have just participated in the first non simulated magical battle in modern history."

"I was wondering about that." said Mio with a frown. "As far as I could tell, the six faux Home Guards who attacked us were not Witches and it wasn't due to them being men either. Tell me, did you manage to find out their nationalities."

"Four of them were Orussian, with two of them being Hispanic." answered her interviewer. "I suppose there is a reason for this line of questioning?"

"When we fought them, their shields displayed runes written in kanji, which is Fusoan." Noticing Ian's raised eyebrows, the major continued, "Runes on magic circles and shields always reflect the script the caster is most familiar with. Even an illiterate caster will have the written language she is most exposed to shown on the shields as this would be the script she grew up with." said Mio as she rubbed her chin, her mind juggling the myriad possibilities.

"It could be they grew up in either the Fuso Empire or the Jin Empire where kanji is widely used. That would make their native script so to speak. Remember that you did not hear them speak and do not know what is their most proficient language, "pointed out Ian.

Mio closed her eyes in thought before replying, "Even if that was the case, I still say they don't have any magic. At least, not their own."

Ian arched an eyebrow at the firm tone of Mio's answer, "What makes you so sure?"asked Ian.

"The shield is the manifestation of the Witch's power and displays the link between caster and familiar. The presence of both Witch and familiar is felt when you come into contact with a shield and it's played out like a song in your head. When you come into contact with the shield, it feels like eavesdropping on a private conversation." explained the Fusoan Witch.

"When my Reppuzan crushed their shields however, "Mio grimaced at the memory, "I heard the same noise in all of them."

"Noise? Interesting choice of words there, Major." pointed out the older man.

"It wasn't an intimate, quiet duet that I experienced when sparring with other Witches as I come into contact with their magic." replied the major.

"There was this discordant screeching, this _clamour_ like a choir without a conductor. Many different voices wailed hoping to be heard over the din. Instead of harmony between Witch and familiar, there were many different personalities in strife."

Placing her hands on her mouth, Mio continued as her expression darkened recalling the feeling of the battle, "It was sickening, really. The song playing as the magic flows was never meant to be something this...repulsive. "

"What then, do you think was the reason for the difference between the shields of a _real _Witch and what you encountered today?"urged Ian.

"No idea, "shrugged the Fusoan Witch."I've never heard of anyone merging their magic together before, since even twins or the closest of lovers cannot get their magic flow to be in perfect unison."

Another moment passed in silence before Mio continued, "The only thing I can plausibly guess would be something like a Striker Unit. Since Strikers are machines and do not have their own independent magic flow, when in contact with a Witch and her familiar's magic flow, it acts as a conduit allowing their magic to be perfectly in sync."

"The Miyafuji Theorem in a nutshell. Strikers create a subspace acting as a foci and the magic flows in perfect harmony." finished Ian. "Which is why the older a Witch gets, the weaker their magic. The link wears down over time and even the best conduit cannot delay the inevitable. "

"An overly simplified and crude generalisation, but yes."admitted Mio. "However, the feedback I got when I cracked their shields definitely had more than just one song playing. There were far too many voices when our magic contacted."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the major sighed, "And we still have no clue how they were able to fit into the Strikers in the first place, let alone operate them. Having no magic of their own."

"No matter how well crafted the foci, it won't work without a song between familiar and Witch." finished Ian as the major nodded in agreement. The older man then fished out a stack of photos from his breast pocket and placed them in front of Mio who eagerly went over them. Her uncovered eye widened in recognition before frowning as she continued to study the pictures.

"To answer your question before you ask, Major. The photos are those of your assailants but what really should interest you."

"Is that there's this grey ooze coming out of their wounds. I could swear that they were bleeding the right shade of red when Yoshiko skewered one of them." Shaking her head, she returned the photos to her interrogator who placed them back in his pocket while fishing out a single picture from his trousers.

"And you would be right. The ooze only started appearing when the bodies were brought to the autopsy table, which means it was leaking out from a part of the body where your friend's sword did not pierce."Tapping the table with his index finger, Ian continued. "The ooze did not stop there, by the way. It continued to flow until this happened." Pushing the single photo he kept in reserve to Mio's side of the table, he leaned back and waited for a reaction.

Mio blinked in surprise at the new picture in front of her before scowling. The autopsy shot showed a close up of an opened incision on the belly of one of her assailants but instead of a dark red and fleshy intestines, the insides of the cadaver was stuffed with black crystalline shapes that resembled a grotesque parody of the human anatomy while grey, thick mucus flowed freely. The conclusion was as damming as enlightening.

"Neuroi miasma corruption."Mio spat out the answer as if it was a curse. "Someone is doing this to _humans_ now?" Mio's face paled at the implication that someone was willingly exposing any person to the corrupting effects of the alien scourge.

"The link between the appearance of the Neuroi and the birth of Witches in the human populations is one area of study we have been very interested in. I am not familiar with the science behind it but suffice to say, the Neuroi can use magic if the right factors are there."

"Something I am only too familiar with, "winced Mio as memories of the Yamato resurfaced.

Keeping the photos into his pockets, Ian continued, "Unfortunately, we do not know who is behind this attack, nor are we familiar with how they manage to make use of a Neuroi core to create a subspace of that size. I would advise you to speak with someone who is more familiar with those Neuroi bastards than I am." Rising to the door, Ian gestured for Mio to follow him out of the interview room.

"You have any names to start with?" Mio asked as she followed her interviewer to the lobby.

"As a matter of fact, I do. A certain Doctor Nancy Oppenheimer is accompanying your commanding general Galland to your wedding celebrations. She also happens to be an authority in the field of Xenobiolgy, the study of the Neuroi." stated the older man as he started to sign the release papers upon reaching the lobby.

"So about those charges you were planning to bring against us..."queried the major.

"What charges?"Shrugged the older man with a smile. "Nothing happened as far as the Britannian government is concerned." Turning on his heels, Ian was about to walk away when a feminine voice that Mio recognised as Yoshiko's bellowed from across the hallway. "Battleship!"

"Tanks, you ignorant lass! I told you they are the size of tanks!" replied a male voice just as loudly. Yoshiko approached the lobby escorted by a burly policeman dressed with mutton chop sideburns and beard.

"Sergeant O'Neil. Is there a reason for this ruckus." said Ian coolly. The copper winced at the pointed question and gave a crisp salute.

"Mr Fleming, Sir! I was merely correcting some misinformation Ms Nishizawa here insists on propagating, Sir!"

"Mio, this blowhard here insists _incorrectly_ that the MEGS in Africa are size of wee little tanks. Obviously, he is horribly ignorant about basic zool...zoo... I mean basic animal stuff!" snarled the cat-eared Witch as she shot her escort with a murderous glare.

"MEGS?" asked Mio even as she braced herself for what she suspected will be a very stupid answer.

"Man Eating Giant Scorpions! I came up it myself!" The cat eared Witch beamed proudly. Mio resisted the urge to scream and choke her old friend.

Mio was filled with morbid curiosity as she briefly considered probing how the discussion veered into dialogue of overgrown arthropods on another continent, and then quickly decided some things were best left undiscovered.

"Come on, Yoshiko."Grabbing the back of the cat-eared Witch's collar, the major began dragging her away from the scene. "We're collecting Junko and then going home."

"But Miooo..."whined the younger Fusoan at her friend's handling of her.

Mio snorted dismissively at protests even as she made for the exit. It was a silly discussion to begin with anyways.

Everyone knew the MEGS in Africa were the size of train cars.

...

Francesca Lucchini found herself in a dilemma. It was one that the Romagnan Witch was very familiar with as she would face it every time she stepped into the outdoor bath.

The dilemma was about groping.

To be more specific, it was not about whether to grope or not to grope as _that_ question has long been settled. No, there will be globes of succulent female mammary in her hands by the end of the day as surely as the sun rises in the east.

The question which keeps other people up at night and herself from launching herself like a lust fuelled rocket towards the target of her ministrations was about **who** to grope. Many casual observers would dismiss this question as irrelevant when applied to the young Witch, believing wrongly she was attracted to any pair of breasts beyond a certain size. Yet as any of the targets of her molestations can attest, Francesca Lucchini was picky in who she gropes and how.

The Romagnan Witch chooses only certain types of breasts to assail and she was very discriminating. It has to belong to a young attractive female although she makes exceptions to women who retain their looks well into their later years.

Right now, she had a few choices presented to her. It was a choice that Lucchini suspected Solomon would find hard to answer. The ancient king's answer of course would have been to grope all of them and it was one she can agree with in principle if not in practice due to the lack of opportunity and the fact that senior officers and important civilians tend to be strangely reluctant to subject themselves to her friendly gestures of skinship. It was something that had always seemed confusing to Lucchini as she failed to see how otherwise closer bonds can be forged among close female friends otherwise. A small annoying voice then squeaked at her maybe because they objected to being molested but was quickly snuffed out mentally. That was a _boring_ voice. Decency it called itself.

Lucchini smiled to herself when thinking about the late king. It was nice of that Judean lady to tell her of all those stories of her people. There some other boring details of how he was supposedly the wisest man who ever lived and built some important temple somewhere. The young Witch didn't pay too much attention to all the extraneous details as much as she did the part of his three thousand wives and concubines. It was that detail that made her question just how wise and powerful this Solomon was if he had stopped at only three thousand. Francesca Lucchini wouldn't have stopped still she had at least hit ten thousand.

Realising that her mind had drifted off, Lucchini shook her head to send suds flying, raising protests from Shirley who was shampooing her hair. Settling into the Liberion's bosom that was happy her charge was relatively quiet for a change, the tanned Witch began to plan her assault by scoping out priority targets, setting mission objectives and hopefully, establish an exit strategy.

Target designated as Charlie 1 was her commanding general Adolfine. Charlie 1 sported a pair of well shaped and firm globes with a nice pink shade on the nipples. A little less rounded then what she is used to, but she can be inquisitive and not above experimenting with new experiences. That she was laying back in the edge of the bath with her arms spread out and thus very vulnerable makes her an attractive target.

The semi predatory glances that Adolfine was shooting Lynne when she thought no one was looking? All her senses as a predator sent out signals to avoid in deference to the bigger cat on the prowl. Shuddering, she turned elsewhere. Charlie 1 reminded her too much of Wing Commander Minna except she didn't seem to hide that scary part very much.

Target designated as Charlie 2 was Dr Nancy Oppenheimer who is currently engaged in conversation with Major Sakamoto about some boring stuff bout Neuroi cores and magic. Big, firm and rounded with a nice shade of beige. Lucchini was very familiar with this particular build. Still, it seemed a tad close to Shirley's and frankly, Lucchini was looking for something different, not comfort food. The blonde's also seem to lack that extra bounce and perkiness that Shirley bought to the table. Another target removed from today's list.

Target designated as Charlie 3 was the new land Witch, Olivia. Well toned yet still retaining the bounce and those scars around her body just makes her look _so_ exotic. Most Witches do not have scars on them due to the prevalence of healing magic and her cuts and burn marks across the body of the land Witch makes her unique among the choices available. Exotic, not emanating a dangerous aura that made her scream run away and from the way she was laid back at the edge of the pool with her eyes closed, completely vulnerable. A sly grin formed as Lucchini decided tonight, she was going for some wild game.

Mission objectives and primary target set, 2nd Lieutenant Francesca Lucchini scrambled into position for her sortie.

_Maybe I can move close enough to pounce from behind_, that usually works, thought the tanned Witch as she moved into position by walking casually towards the edge of the pool. Two metres behind Charlie 3, Lucchini tensed up and began to crouch before springing forward to her target's position with hands outstretched.

_Karsland boobies are a real treat! They have this firm texture that makes me feel sleepy..._ _Sleepy? That's not rightzzzzzz_...The thoughts of cut off halfway as a pair of arms snaked around the Romagnan's upper body in a sleeper hold and cut off the oxygen flow to her brain. Olivia snorted as she released the younger Witch once she was sure Lucchini was nice and out cold. Placing her face up so she wouldn't drown in the warm waters of the bath, the commando went back to soaking in the warm waters while Shirley sighed and fished her charge out unceremoniously.

Gertrude Barkhorn looked on with interest at the unusual sight of someone other than Eila successfully intercept Lucchini's idea of a warm greeting. The auburn hair captain had fantasized about doing exactly what their guest had done but the tanned Witch can be downright slippery when she wants to be, which is when anyone feels outraged and is in the mood to deliver a righteous smackdown in revenge for the outrage of their modesty.

"I didn't even see her move. "Gertrude muttered in amazement at the apparent speed of the land Witch's movements.

"That's because she didn't move in the conventional sense, Trude. "Minna said as she frowned at the scene. "Her presence was there, disappeared when Lucchini moved in for the kill then reappeared right behind Lucchini." The redhead then turned her gaze upon her commanding general expectantly.

Chuckling, Adolfine addressed the assembled crowd. "I suppose I could foist this off onto Dr Oppenheimer here, but since she doesn't have anything to cause an explosion here with, she'd bore the living daylights out of everyone here instead with pointless jargon when explaining what's going on."

"I do not bore people to death with pointless jargon, general." The blonde scientist huffed at the slight and folded her arms under her breasts. "Still, I wouldn't mind using the cargo to demonstrate just exactly what new developments we have come up with." Her eyes lit up with anticipation at the thought of a live demonstration.

"Moving on before the good doctor blows up the hangar, " the quick rejection of her suggestion causing the blonde's excitement to deflate. "What Lt Colonel Skorenzy demonstrated was her own unique magical ability, Invisibility. She made the light molecules around her to distort, making her invisible to the naked eye. "

"But her presence disappeared, rather than her just becoming invisible. I would have noticed her if she was merely invisible instead of disappearing off the face of the earth." Minna pointed out to her superior.

"Wonderful observation, Minna. Five points, " beamed the general at the answer.

"We have points now?" Erica asked out loud.

Ignoring the blonde ace's outburst, Adolfine continued. " To answer the question. What happened was Lt Colonel Skorenzy actually entered a pocket dimension similar to the ones generated by our Striker Units. Her invisibility and speed covered the process so no one saw her enter it then she appeared back in our plane."

Suddenly feeling very queasy, Mio deliberately and slowly asked the general, "As for how she managed to enter subspace in the first place, I only know of one possible way."

Giving the Fusoan Witch a knowing look, Adolfine moved to assure her subordinate. "I know of what you're worried about, Sakamoto and I'm happy to announce they are misplaced. Olivia, if you will be so kind. "

Nodding tersely, the land Witch pulled out of her dreadlocks a pinkish red crystal the size of a thumbnail. Mio sighed in relief as her fears that yet another general she found herself working under was working on scientific research linked to the Neuroi with questionable ethical standards. Satisfied that her curiosity was placated, the major stepped out of the communal bath and strode back to the changing room. The rest of the assembled Witches then moved out of the bath as if on cue with Shirley dragging the now slowly awakening Lucchini back to her bunk. The orange haired Liberion was determined that Lucchini will sleep in her proper bed tonight rather than end up in some unknown corner of the base.

...

Perrine Henriette Clostermann found her staring at the stone roof of her room lying between her sheets with the moonlight shining through the windows. She is accompanied only by silence punctuated by the sounds of her own breathing and rustling of the sheets and her own thoughts, it was a scenario she was starting to find very familiar.

Ever since _that_ incident, the Gallian had found herself alternating between fits of impotent rage and sinking depression. She was fortunate that the Strike Witches had been taking rotating shifts to keep a close watch on her in between bouts of merry making. In the quiet air, the blonde's ear picked up a faint distant whirling of propellers. Lynne, Miyafuji and _Eila_ of all people especially had been trying to get her out of her funk. The presence of the silver head Witch attempting to cheer her up had succeeded only in riling her up but she was grateful that Eila took precious Sanya hogging time to attend to her. At night, Sanya took pains to shorten her operational theatre range just to keep her in radar range.

_Sanya must be keeping rather close to the base to keep me in range if I can hear her from here_. After close to three days since the proposal, Perrine was still feeling the anguish over the perceived betrayal when Minna made the first move to confess to their mutual target of affection.

_No, betrayal isn't what happened there. Commander Minna simply managed to get her wits together while I was never really in the running in the first place_, thought the Gallian Witch glumly. Beating her chest in an effort to prevent self pity from overwhelming her, Perrine summoned up her pride as a noble, Witch and Gallian and leapt out of bed in her sheer blue negligee with fist clenched.

"No! I refuse to let one single act of rejection bring me down into a pathetic mewling pile! I am better than this! I am a proud member of the long line of Gallian nobility!" The blonde Witch declared to an imaginary audience. "Why, I'm sure even now, the destined love of my life will surely be knocking on my door as I speak!"

Knock! Knock! "Perrine? I heard some voices inside. Are you awake?" In the silent stillness of the night, Major Sakamoto's voice rang loud and clear like a gunshot.

_The Major is the love of my life? I mean of course she is! What I mean is, she's engaged to be married! In days! This is not proper! This is a golden opportunity! I don't know what in Witchcraft's name I'm thinking! Help_! Frazzled nerves and sheer fatigue set in and Perrine Clostermann found herself frozen mid pose, her face twitching while her thoughts started a massive pile up that is an insurer's nightmare inside her mind.

"Guess it was just my imagination. It is rather late after all. "The sound of turning heels heralded the impending departure of the Fusoan Witch.

_Swoosh!_ The door opened smoothly and Perrine yanked in Major Sakamoto in one swift motion, slamming the doors close a split second later.

" How can I help you this evening, major. " The blonde Gallian smiled brightly as if she had not literally dragged the eye patched Witch into her room and shut the door.

"Ah Perrine. Glad to know I wasn't disturbing you or anything. "

"You're not disturbing anything, Major. I always have time for a secretrendezvous with you, " shot out the blonde Witch in one breath.

"Uh...yes. That's nice to know." the major answered obviously not knowing. "The reason I am here today, is to present you with the sword I promised you as a replacement for the heirloom. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find a blacksmith skilled in rapier forging so I got you something to tide you over with." Major Sakamoto then presented a simply adorned sabre to Perrine.

The Gallian Witch fought down a sigh and accepted the sabre with thanks. Unsheathing it, her eyes widened at the flawless surface of the blade, the cold air surrounding the blade and clean swish of steel slicing air as she swung the weapon around to get a feel of it. Pulling a stray thread from her night gown, she dropped it on the edge of and gasped as the blade sliced the thread clean in half.

"This sword is...wonderful." Perrine said in awe.

Looking sheepish, the major then said, "Glad you like it. I have a couple of favours I'd like to ask from you."

"Name it and it will be done." Perrine replied with finality.

"Firstly, I'd like you to be the Honour Guard at the wedding. I trust you the most for matters like these." Sakamoto stated her first request.

"Acceptable." It would be an uncomfortable affair, but she can be professional about it.

"Secondly, and I know it won't be easy for you, I need some tips on the places to bring Minna on a romantic dinner date in Paris." Mio then drew in a deep breath and prepared for the inevitable explosion.

Though barely twenty seconds passed in reality, it felt like hours before the blonde Witch replied with a sigh, "I suppose the reason you came to me was because no one else knows Paris enough or aren't classy enough to know the really good places, _non_?"

Giving a slight chuckle, the blonde added " That and the fact you don't have a romantic bone in your body, major." It felt weird to Sakamoto's ears to hear Perrine speaking so...naturally to her instead of her normal, nervous worshipful tone. The major decided quickly she preferred this to the anticipated screeching and gnashing of teeth.

"I'll do one better. Give me a day and I'll set you up in some of the fanciest restaurants in Paris and a whole itinerary for the night. Just try not ravaging her on the boulevards when you're through, hmm?" Perrine then winked to emphasise her point.

The major's next move was one she had not anticipated. The elder Witch drew Perrine into a fierce bear hug and caused her to flush a bright red. "You better go now, Major or I'll reconsider that offer of a secret rendevous."

Withdrawing to the door, Sakamoto thanked her once more before closing the door gently. Laying down onto her bed with her right hand still clutching the sabre, Perrine tried to get some sleep.

She had a long day tomorrow, and she needed to get the crying out of her system soon.

...

Author's Notes

I had a few more scenes that I wanted to add but the chapter had gone on far longer than I anticipated so I'm going to end it here. On the plus side, this means the next chapter won't be taking a month and a half to appear. Apologies for the wait as sickness, work and the fact a general election was being held took up most of my time.

Parts of the chapter were rather dry and choke full of exposition, but such is the price if I want to set the stage for the latter parts of the story. A personal aside, those parts of the story were the hardest to write.

Things of interest, Operation Oak was the code name given to the real Skorzeny's mission to rescue Mussolini after he was overthrown by his own people. Since Fascism doesn't exist in the SW universe, it became the operation to rescue the remnants of the Venezian Government instead, something canon never bothered to explain much.

For those of you ready to lynch me due to the lack of Mio and Minna cuddling, rejoice. The next chapter will have loads and loads of it.

Till the next chapter,

**Chapter 6- Date in the City of Lights.**


	6. Chapter 6 Date in City of Lights 1

Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

**Chapter 6: Date in the City of Lights Part 1. **

Minna Dietlinde-Wilcke was in a heap of trouble and for the fifth time in as many seconds she wished that she could cuss out her captors or lament the fact that she was currently seated rather uncomfortably on a bare wooden bench.

It was not the being seated on a bench that really got her upset though. The cause of her displeasure was more because of having a ball gag stuffed into her mouth and her hands being tied behind her back with a piece of silk which was doing just fine resisting her efforts to break out of it. She didn't really think that something so soft can actually be so hard to break.

The redhead shivered as she felt a cold breeze brush against her bare back. Minna tried hard not to think about the fact that she was currently helpless and was dressed only in bra and panties along with a pair of what she felt was stockings. At least she was sure they were indeed stockings as the redhead felt the soft material on her legs and thighs. She would prefer a closer look at the stockings if only to make sure they were tasteful but the blindfold currently covering her eyes, also courtesy of her captor, prevented her from doing so.

_If only I had chosen to wear a more conservative set of skivvies, the red lacy ensemble I'm wearing surely sends out the wrong signals_, thought the redhead as she tried to imagine what was going through the mind of her captor as her choice of undergarments was revealed as she was stripped of her equipment.

Minna did not have to wait long as she heard the clicking of high heels approaching from behind her. If she could, she would have grit her teeth to steel herself for whatever depraved tortures her captor surely had planned for her.

"Since your mouth is otherwise occupied, why don't I just say your lines for you, hmm?" A throaty female voice whispered directly into her right ear causing Minna to tremble slightly. The redhead began blinking as she suddenly felt the blindfold removed and as her eyes started adjusting to the morning light, Minna began to blush furiously as she noticed her captor was dressed in a black corset with matching panties, fishnet stockings, knee length boots and nothing else leaving her breasts hanging freely. A mane of raven hair flowed down freely to her hips unhindered and a white eye patch with blue stripes covered her right eye.

Of course, most people would disagree that a collection of black dental floss in fashioned together in the shape of a pair of shorts actually count, but the shape held so Minna decided to let it slide and call it a pair of panties.

The redhead drew back as she noticed her barely dressed captor's face suddenly intrude her personal space, her solitary eye inches away and staring directly into Minna's own. "O Dread Pirate of the Fuso Sea and the Enemy of Women, you will never, EVER prevail against me! I, Minna Dietlinde-Wilcke, Holy Knight of Imperial Karsland, will surely bring you to justice for your crimes against the fair womenfolk of Britannia, Gallia, Orussia, Fuso and innumerable other places, countries and possibly planets that I cannot remember off the top of my head!"

Minna had to admit the pirate mimicked her righteous, bringing the hammer of justice down on villains voice very well. It was more impressive that her captor had done so in a single breath as the redhead usually has to pause for air when she rehearsed the line. Except for the last part about the myriad womenfolk she supposedly had ravaged. The Karslander however could not resist rolling her eyes at the sheer ego of the statement made by the raven haired pirate.

The dismissive action by Minna did not go unnoticed as the pirate gave a dangerous looking grin as she cupped Minna's face in her hands. "What's this? You do not believe I committed crimes of an obscene, steamy nature not suitable for children against the womenfolk of the world and left them gasping for more?"

_Obscene I can believe. Leaving them gasping for more? Please, you need someone to let some hot air out your head_. Minna would have said if she was currently gagged. The redhead settled for another bout of eye rolling instead.

The redhead did not like the glint in the grey eyes of the pirate as she spoke and attempted to protest. As she was currently gagged however, all she managed was, "Mmmpphh! Mmmpphh!"

Cocking her head to the side, the pirate asked her captive, "What's that you said? Please ravish me until the earth and seas give up their dead to prove that you are really the Enemy of Women?"

Despite the redhead's vigorous shaking of her head, the pirate gave a lecherous grin and moved behind her victim, "I aim to please, milady." The raven haired pirate then blew into Minna's ear while resting her ample breasts against her victim's bare back, sending a tingling sensation coursing through her body and prompting another round of shivering from the redhead.

_Must...resist_, Minna told herself even as she felt her body give in to the skilful ministrations of the pirate's hands. Closing her eyes in a futile bid to shut out her captor's advanced, the redhead tried to suppress a moan as she felt gentle nibbling on her ears which soon moved down slowly to her neck, her breathing and heartbeat getting faster as the sensation of teeth upon skin moved downwards towards her shoulders. Shuddering, the redhead squeezed her legs together tightly as she felt smooth fingers slide into her bra and begin to gently run the tip of their fingernails against her nipples. A muffled whimper escaped her throat as she felt the tingling sensation of her captor's fingernails start circling her chest before she felt the hand cupping her left breast move down towards her legs.

_Snap._ With a single motion, Minna felt her bra swiftly removed and the touch of soft lips on her breasts even as her legs were being gently but firmly pried apart. The Karslander began panting as the sensation of a warm tongue wrapping itself around her left nipple had her suppressing another impassioned moan while attempting not to wriggle and shiver as she struggled futilely against her captor's tender mercies. The redhead released a muffled gasp as the sensation of a finger nail tracing up and down her spine had Minna shivering in delight throughout her vulnerable body. Making matters worse, there was a flash of glowing blue light and a pair of brown canine ears and a white tipped bushy tail popped out. Her furry ears twitched in excitement while her tail swished in anticipation.

To her horror, dismay and utter embarrassment, Minna felt a damp spot forming between her legs and in her mind; she just _knew_ that said patch was currently getting wetter and spreading all over her very expensive pair of knickers. If she manages to retrieve her freedom and preserve her chastity, the task of replacing them will be onerous indeed.

"Oh look here! It looks like someone needs a towel because it's getting really _wet _down there." The husky voice of her captor teased mercilessly. The Karsland Witch mentally struck out the possibility of her chastity remaining intact at the end of this encounter.

"The more you resist, my little spitfire, the harder the reaction will be when you finally give in to the sensation building up inside you. Look, "The pirate flicked her erect left nipple for emphasis, prompting a muffled yelp from the gagged Karslander and her tail to stiffen. Her captor then grabbed her tail firmly and began stroking it, causing Minna to bite her lips to while her body shivered in delight. "Your body is far more honest than you are."

There was a shifting of weight and Minna felt the unbound breasts of her captor line up with her own, their nipples touching as the pirate set down on her lap facing her. The short gasps of breath from the pirate bore down in short, warm bursts onto her shoulder as soft lips followed a gentle ticklish nibbling that paced steadily up towards her face. A tearing sound accompanied the sensation of blood flowing back into her hands and it was swiftly followed by the ball gag being removed, allowing her to speak audibly again and prevent drool from flowing freely from her mouth. The redhead opened her mouth to protest but instead felt a tongue take full advantage of the opening and intrude rather forcefully, the foreign organ making an attempt to acquaint itself with every last corner of the insides of her mouth. To her burning shame, her own tongue embraced the intruder and made no effort to force it out.

Minna's eyes snapped open and her own brownish red eyes met the metallic gray of her captor's own uncovered eye. A pair of dark grey dog ears had materialised on her captor's head and appeared to twitch in excitement. The sole visible eye of the pirate practically overflowed with sheer unbridled lust and the redhead was positive if she looked into a mirror, her own eyes would be showing the same signs.

_I really should be pushing her away and making my escape_, thought the redhead. Instead her treacherous hands started moving to hold her tormentor in a tight embrace before moving southwards towards the pirate's buttocks, grabbing the shapely behind with her right hand while her left began to gently scratch the tail, causing it to twitch and prompting moans of approval from her tormentor. Minna wanted to swear that the deep throaty moans coming from her throat were not her own.

_Liar, Liar, pants on fire_, mocked Minna's own inner voice. Well_, I suppose the current pair of pants you're wearing can't really be set alight by anything short of a flamethrower. They're so thoroughly soaked with your own juices I've seen drier used teabags!_

_Hush you! You're supposed to be on my side_, Minna shot back at her own dissident internal voice.

"Let me guess what's going on," chuckled the pirate as she broke the deep kiss, "You are currently having an intense debate with your inner voice and you don't know what to do."

Any questions as to whether the pirate was a mind reader was cut off as the redhead trembled as she felt finger nails idly tracing her inner thighs, her back arching every time the digits teased the ever increasing wet spot between her legs. The smorgasbord of sensation increased as she felt the now familiar feeling of warm lips touching her skin make their way down towards her thighs before it ended abruptly, causing Minna to issue a whine in protest.

"Let me settle the question of what you should do for you, "smirked the eye patched girl before her mouth resumed the journey southwards and the fingers restarted their dance across her sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Minna hoped she won't be screaming too loudly when the time comes.

"Sakamoto-san, time for breakfast!" Yoshika's clear voice rang out in Fusoan as the door leading to shared bunk of Wing Commander Dietlinde-Wilcke and Major Sakamoto Mio burst open. The younger Fusoan took one look at the scene currently playing out before her eyes, slammed the door shut before opening it again to verify that she was not seeing things. The young Witch was closely followed by Erica Hartmann, whose impish grin that is forever fixed onto her face grew wider at the sight before her.

"I was hoping to call you for breakfast, Sakamoto-san."Her face flushing a deep crimson, Yoshika bowed deeply, "So sorry to intrude! Please continue whatever it was you were doing!" The younger Witch then beat a hasty retreat towards the mess hall, not bothering to close the door.

Erica for her part showed no signs of embarrassment, though delight was very obviously written across her expression. "Well, looks like the major will be uhhh, eating in today." Rubbing her hands in glee, the blonde ace took off and had the presence of mind to close the door. Shouting into the room, Erica managed to breathe out in between fits of giggling, "Maybe we can try informing you two later at lunch time? Hang a sign or something if you're eating in as well for lunch!"

As the footsteps got more distant, Mio looked blankly at the now closed door before remarking, "Well that certainly wasn't in the scenario of "Dread Pirate ravishes Dashing Knight in Captivity". But who could have guessed that General Galland had so many novellas that come with their own instruction manuals on re-enactment."

Turning back to look at her partner, Mio saw the redhead's expression go in rapid succession from pale terror, a deep purple blush of shame before settling into a mask of grim determination.

"Major Sakamoto Mio!" The voice of the wing commander of the 501st was now clear and brooks no challenge to her authority.

"Orders, Commander?" Mio replied instinctively as ingrained reflexes took over.

"I take you up on your offer. Ravish me till the earth and sea give up their dead and you prove yourself to be the Enemy of Women! I've come too far to stop now. Ruined reputation and the psychological damage caused to Miyafuji from witnessing the scene are damned!" The reddish brown eyes of the Karsland Witch burned with fiery determination.

Mio blinked for a moment as she processed the order before returning a confident smirk, the initial embarrassment of being caught _in flagrante delicito_ completely gone from her mind.

"Now where was I? The Dread Pirate was going to ravish you and..." The eye patched Witch found her attempt to get back into character interrupted by a raised index finger from her commander.

"To hell with the role playing, lover. Just make with the wild animal sex already," said the redhead determinedly.

"Sure you not interested in an audience, Minna because I can totally call them back? I still remember you have this fantasy involving Hartmann, Barkhorn, Shirley, myself and a toolbox..."

"Bed. Ravish. Now. "The redhead cut off her partner with a glare.

Mio was only too happy to comply with the order to eat in and carried her lover bridal style towards the bed.

* * *

...

"Oui_, Oui, je sais que vous ne faites pas de réserves. Corriger, une table pour deux dans un coin tranquille est en réparation et ne sera disponible à huit heures du soir. __Merci beaucoup, Paul_." (Yes, Yes, I know you don't do reservations. Correct, a table for two in a quiet corner is being repaired and will only be available at eight in the evening. Thank you very much, Paul.)

Perrine tapped her fingers against the desk impatiently as she listened to the owner of the restaurant she was trying to get a reservation at try to weasel his way out of keeping his side of a bargain made to her family. Tried being the operative word as the blonde held her irritation in check despite the pleading from the other side of the phone.

"_Non__Monsieur__de__Saurs__, __nous__ne sommes même pas__._ _Votre entreprise doit à la famille Clostermann plus d'une réservation pour dîner._ _Ne me faites pas de recueillir_."Warned the blonde Witch icily as she felt her already short fuse igniting. ( No Mr de Saurs, we are not even. Your business owes the Clostermann family than just one little dinner reservation. Do not make me collect.)

"_Heureux que nous ayons__une__compréhension__. __Au revoir_." Slamming the phone down in frustration, Perrine turned her attention to more important and less irritating matters. ( Glad we have an understanding. Goodbye.)

Blowing at a stray strand of hair that flowed down her face in frustration, Perrine muttered a string of Gallian swear words under her breath as she ticked off yet another item on the check list she had prepared for Major Sakamoto's date with WC Minna. Holding onto a fountain pen and seated at her desk, the blonde started recounting the events she had arranged for tonight's celebration as she crossed out yet another item on the checklist.

The plan was a romantic stroll through the boulevards leading to the Eiffel Tower undergoing reconstruction after touching down in Paris followed by a visit to Versailles Palace, specifically the Hall of Mirrors which was relatively unscathed despite the Neuroi occupation. The evening will be followed by dinner at "L'Entrecôte Porte-Maillot before a romantic movie handpicked by herself at Le Champo theatre in the Latin Quarter. If everything goes to plan, the pair will not be coming back to Romagna until the next morning, too busy sating their mutual lust for one another in the Gallian capitol.

Perrine tried very hard not to think about the fact that the itinerary planned out had initially been for her now never to be realised romantic rendezvous with Major Sakamoto. While most people took more than a few days to get over a broken heart after getting ditched, other people were not Perrine Henriette Clostermann on a mission or had several very close comrades like Lynne, Eila and even that racoon dog Miyafuji worried sick for her. In hindsight, the major accepting Wing Commander Minna's proposal finally snuffed out for good that little shred of vain hope she had that the Fusoan Witch would ever reciprocate her feelings.

Rather than nursing the forlorn hope which the major's attempt to let her down gently by acting denser than a gigantic Neuroi Hive covered in a black hole had inadvertently did, Minna's direct approach and cementing her claim to Major Sakamoto drove in the final nail to her delusions and in the process had freed her. Said process broke her heart to be sure, but if she managed to come out from the death of her entire family during the Neuroi invasion, she can survive a bout of being a jilted lover, or in this case, non lover or two.

The young aristocrat was now free to continue with her own life and move on from what she now admitted was puppy love, rather than allow it to be tied down to the notion that she could ever have her crush return her feelings. To finish the process however, Perrine needed to prove to herself as much as everyone else she could now assist and approach Sakamoto Mio as a colleague and friend, rather than a blatantly obvious secret admirer.

To that end, the blonde Witch resolved to display the right amount of savoir faire and will keep her promise to her sub commander to make her night out in Paris an electrifying one, in a way only a Gallian can do.

Lost in a daydream of just how Major Sakamoto was going to show her gratitude for her services rendered in a manner that involved a bouquet of roses and candlelight while steadfastly squashing vehemently said daydream was in anyway romantic, the Ace of Alsace failed to notice a rabbit eared ginger redhead dressed in a blue tunic over a white dress shirt with tie sneaking up on her, her stocking covered legs wearing a pair of black shoes that made no sound as the new arrival stalked her prey.

"_Sous_ _Lieutenant Perrine! je vous manqué_!"( Lieutenant Perrine! I missed you!) A girlish voice wailed out in Gallian, prompting the blonde to look up from her table at the voice shouting at her in her native tongue. "Eek!" Perrine's cry of surprise was cut short as she was rewarded with the sight and sensation of a hundred pounds of Witch hurtling into her, knocking her onto the ground and sending her ink pot and pen flying.

_"Amelie? Pourquoi êtes vous ici?"_ ( Amelie? Why are you here?) Suddenly remembering where she is, Perrine ordered the redhead to switch to Britannian. "It's Lieutenant now, by the way."

"_Oui_, I mean yes, Lieutenant." The younger Gallian complied happily. Sniffling, the redhead got to her feet and helped her object of admiration onto hers. Perrine sighed as she looked her countrywomen who was wiping her tear streaked eyes and cheeks, courtesy of yet another typical bout of over dramatic emotion. Ginger red hair flowed in wavy curves down to collar length and rounded cheeks complemented green eyes that are perpetually glistening and pleading.

_Amelie here would turn on the waterworks over a bowl of onion soup_, thought the blonde as she resisted the urge to hug the younger Witch tightly and coo that all is right with the world. Frowning, the blonde tried to make sense of the younger Gallian's presence her in Romagna.

"You know, it just happens so I was going over the entire guest list, Amelie," The redhead started to freeze at the fake saccharine tone adopted by her senior as well as her narrowing gaze burrowing into her, "And I don't remember you being on it."

Tapping her foot to demonstrate her displeasure, Perrine glared at the redhead while still maintaining a wholesome smile, causing Amelie to wince at the blonde's accusing stare, "Explain you, Sergeant Amelie Planchard."

"I wasn't AWOL if that's what you're asking!" The redhead sergeant blabbed out nervously as Perrine narrowed her eyes at Amelie's answer.

"I never said you were, Amelie."The blonde Witch finally growled out. Amelie for her part felt utter torn. Her senior's growls were just so darn cute! But the younger Gallian knew first hand just how terrifying Perrine can be when she put her mind to it and the blonde was most definitely doing her best to be scary . Lacking better options, the redhead decided to appeal to her old superior's protective instincts and turned on her puppy dog stare which caused the blonde Witch to groan at the blatant attempt at emotional blackmail.

Sighing, Perrine picked up her pen from the floor and frowned at the sight of the overturned ink pot. She will need to get a refill though fortunately, the pot itself was not broken. "Desertion is a very serious offence, Sergeant. Fortunately, The Free Gallian Air Force isn't in the habit of punishing Witches too severely, even with Gallia liberated. I will write a letter of clemency and don't you start denying it. I already have too many things on my plate as it is." The blonde Witch raised her hand to cut off any protestations of innocence from the younger Gallian. Amelie bit her lips as her eyes began to water again, unsure of how to voice her objections.

"Actually, Lieutenant Clostermann. I was the one who requested Sergeant Planchard's presence here."

Lifting her head from the letter she was drafting asking for leniency at the unfamiliar yet authoritative voice, Perrine snapped to attention once she identified the new presence in her room, " General-major Galland, Ma'am. Permission to continue."

"Continue, Lieutenant and at ease. You're not some fresh meat in boot camp."The general waved dismissively at what she considered to be the blonde's excessive display of deference to a superior officer. Perrine settled back into her chair and cleared her throat before seeking clarification. "General, you ordered Amelie to come over to Romagna?"

"Requested, Lieutenant." The Karsland general corrected as she sat on the bed, prompting a frown from Perrine but no further protest. "I cannot order the deployment of a Witch under foreign command even if we are all technically on the same side. Though, if you will pardon my language, the idiots who are running your bureaucracy seems less obstructive then usual when I requested for Sergeant Planchard to assist you."

_Probably eager to have poor Amelie out of their hair. Her over enthusiasm could be her undoing someday and they'd be happy to have a Karslander to blame if anything happens to her_, thought the Gallian ace glumly. "Assistance? For myself?" The blonde was by now thoroughly confused and a tad annoyed at Adolfine's knowing smirk.

"A wing Witch for your planned observation mission of the outing to Paris by Wing Commander Minna and Major Sakamoto of course. Did you really think I did not know you'd be planning to stal...I mean watch them from the shadows?" It was a rhetorical question that the blonde aristocrat chooses not to answer. "Figured a fellow Gallian you're familiar with would be of great help to your task."

_As a millstone perhaps,_ thought Perrine at the transparent attempt to discourage her from interfering. Amelie had improved greatly as an air combat Witch, but shadowing and trailing was not the forte of the overly excitable Witch.

"News of their impending wedding has already been spread all over the world, Lieutenant. Stalkers, fans, disgruntled individuals who loathe their own governments and run of the mill terrorists would love a chance to kidnap or worse to a pair as famous as your two commanders." Adolfine pointed out to the Gallian Witch who in turn saw the situation rapidly spiralling out of her control. "Especially after Major Sakamoto got attacked by six land Striker equipped assailants in London, I would want a discreet but considerable security detail..."

"The major was _attacked_? When? How! Striker Units? But that'd mean Witches? Who?" Perrine screeched out at the top of her lungs and pounded her desks with her fists upon hearing her former crush was assaulted. Adolfine winced at the sudden outburst but managed to hold out both hands to placate the now harried Gallian while Amelie jumped upon hearing the screaming and shifted to a corner of the room, trembling.

"Calm down, Lieutenant. You already saw Sakamoto last night and know she was unharmed. Also, I did not say she was assaulted by Witches though the actual facts are no less...disturbing." Noting that the blonde's hands uncurled from the fists they had formed, the general took it as a sign Perrine had calmed down and continued. "Though the actual details as to how Strikers were involved is beyond your pay grade, I can let slip that Neuroi miasma was involved."

Perrine's hands clenched into fists once again as the blight left behind by the alien enemy was mentioned. Miasma corruption was insidious and the cleaning up of their effects on the land was at times more deadly than their attacks when considering the long term. Land completely covered by Neuroi miasma was as good as salted earth with nothing growing while the soil became so soft rebuilding was more difficult than it was when said towns were first built. Leave the land under their influence long enough and the entire landmass would even disappear to be replaced by a barren, stormy sea as had happened in parts of South Liberion, Australia and the Jin Empire.

"The date will have to be cancelled then." The blonde decided finally. "If the major had been attacked by an unknown adversary with the ability to deploy Strikers..."

"Au contraire, Lieutenant." The blonde stared wide eyed at Adolfine's overruling of her decision. "The expedition and indeed the wedding will go on as planned. We cannot let this attack derail the event."

"It's exposing Commander Minna and the major to unneeded risks, General!" The Gallian protested hotly at the apparent callousness of her superior.

"We do not know of the enemy's capabilities at this point, Lieutenant, so changing plans now especially when the public is following it so closely would invite rumours to spread. The London attacks were covered up as a gas explosion despite the fact that there was no piped gas to that area of London where the assault happened. Whispers of an insidious conspiracy deadly enough to have the mighty Witches shrink in their approach will damage morale at a critical stage." Adolfine met the heated glare sent by the Gallian Witch squarely who was livid at the Karsland general's reasoning.

"So you'd put both of them at risk for propaganda purposes?"The blonde stated curtly while glaring daggers.

"Wars are only won if the people fighting them believe them to be winnable, Lieutenant. Letting the terrorists think they have won would not serve that purpose" Adolfine shrugged at the accusatory glare of the blonde. "Minna and Sakamoto are not exactly helpless damsels in distress and they have both agreed that going to Paris will show we are not shaken by the attack. Furthermore, I believe that an entire Joint Fighter Wing on standby should be sufficient to provide any security if called for."

_Time for the coup de grâce,_ thought the Karsland general. "Besides, it's Sakamoto's idea." The mention of the idea originating from the eye patched Witch dealt the final blow to Perrine's objections.

Perrine blinked as she connected the dots while pondering over the resources which will be at her disposal, "A Joint Fighter wing in Paris? But the only one operational there is..."

"The 506th, also known as the Noble Witches." Adolfine finished for the blonde. " They are responsible for the defence of Paris and nearby theatres of operations. A pity you have declined command of them once before to serve here, Lieutenant. But this mission will be a good chance for you to get to know them better." Perrine drew a sharp breath as she felt the increased responsibility on her shoulders. A second chance at command of an entire Wing! Still, if an entire Wing was going to provide security along with whatever reinforcements General Galland can scrounge up.

"If you say so, general."The blonde conceded. Smiling, Adolfine prepared to further brief Perrine on the security detail she had in mind when she heard a sharp knocking on the bunk door. Turning around in unison, all three Witches focused their attention on the unusual sight of Olivia Skorzeny carrying a bound and gagged Lynette Bishop dressed in her pink nightgown over her shoulder. Ignoring the constant struggling, the scarred Witch casually dropped her package on the bed right next to Adolfine who stared impassively at the bound Britannian.

"I've invited Flight Sergeant Bishop as per your orders, general." reported Olivia, pointedly ignoring the shocked looks of the two Gallians in the room while staring impassively at her commander. Adolfine cocked her head sideways to look at the squirming Britannian lying next to her before turning her gaze onto her adjutant.

"I said invite, not _kidnap_, Olivia. " stated Adolfine. Shrugging, the scarred Witch replied breezily," I wasn't informed she was given the choice of rejection, Ma'am. The invitation was delivered verbally to Flight Sergeant Bishop at her bunk at exactly 0815 hours. As she was reluctant to comply, saying quote, I don't want to be the plaything of a depraved pervert who has a body pillow of myself, unquote I simply chose the most efficient way to fulfil my mission parameters using a handkerchief as a gag and her bed sheets as rope."

Grinning, Olivia continued, "A well trained adjutant knows when to be discreet. If there's nothing else..." Not waiting for the Karsland general to react, the scarred Witch beat a hasty retreat and slinked out of the room silently. Perrine watched silently as the scene played out, and decided that discretion is the better part of valour. Besides, poor Amelie was trembling in the corner and whimpering at the sight. Sharing a glance with the redhead, Perrine guessed that the other Gallian in the room had come to same conclusion.

"I just remembered I have to...worm my cat. That's right, cat. Amelie, a little help please?" Walking briskly to the door and gestured for Amelie to follow, Perrine tried very hard to ignore the pleading looks from the gagged Lynne as she quickly ran to the mess hall after slamming the door shut. She needed help and hopefully, she will get it before the bed sheets were irrevocably stained and the Britannian Witch utterly traumatised. Well, _more_ traumatised then she already is anyway.

Glancing at the now closed door, Adolfine sighed and turned her attention to the Britannian currently tied up and lying on her bed. Deciding to make the best of the situation, the general reached over and removed the handkerchief from the bound Witch's mouth. Before Adolfine could speak, Lynne let out a piercing scream which cut through the air and forced the elder Witch to cover her ringing ears. Thinking quickly, Adolfine slapped her right hand over the bound Witch's mouth and intoned, "Look, I'm not going to do anything to you, but if you don't stop screaming, I'm putting that hankie back in."

Satisfied at Lynne's slow nodding, the general slowly removed her hand from the younger Witch's mouth. Adolfine felt herself wincing at the pleading look in Lynne's eyes which are watering in fear.

"Please don't rape me?"The younger Witch pleaded.

The general found herself stiffening her jaw and counting to ten internally before replying flatly. "What?"

"Umm, rough prison sex? Aggravated sexual assault? Non consensual same sex intercourse?" Lynne found herself going through the known terms to describe an act she hoped would not be happening to her.

"I know what rape is, thank you."Adolfine snapped in a harsher tone than she would have liked, prompting the Britannian sniper to shrink into herself. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she gently spoke to the bound Britannian. "Why do you think I was going to well, do _that_ to you?"

"You had your goon break into my room at the crack of dawn to kidnap me while I was half awake and had delivered me to a bed you were seating on bound and gagged," pointed out younger Witch. Struggling against her bonds, she added "Also, I am still tied up." Lacking a comeback to the admittedly well reasoned presumptions, the general muttered under her breath as she moved towards Lynne. "Apologies." Adolfine muttered before summoning her magic and using the enhanced strength to snap the sheets tying up Lynne.

Rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing again, the Britannian Witch turned to look at her commanding general, "If you did not abduct...I mean invite me here to have your way with me. What exactly did you invite me here for?" Lynne almost gasped in amazement as she saw the Karslander blush deeply and reply softly, "It's about spitfires."

"Spitfires? Are you by chance referring to women of a fiery temperament given to violent outbursts? Because I'm quite sure I don't count." Lynne queried, now more confused than afraid at the strange turn of events. Adolfine frowned at the younger Witch's answer and shook her head. "No, I was referring to the model of the Striker Units you've been using."

Adolfine's sighed happily as she stared into the open window, as if visualising the sight of Witches using Spitfires doing aerial acrobatics across the azure sky. Voice filled with nostalgia, the Karslander continued, "I fell in love with those wonderful machines back during Dynamo, when we were hauling our collective asses out of the fire in Karsland. Their mobility, the way they can dive in and out of enemy formations like the chargers of old! That distinctive contour and the lovely sound their magic engines make when their pistons start pumping and the propellers starts rolling! It's like sweet, sweet love making between Witch and machine." The general gushed as she began hyperventilating and shivering in delight at the description of the iconic Britannian Strikers.

Lynne shuffled further away nervously at the seemingly unhinged Karslander, asking nervously, "Aren't there other Britannians you know who can talk about the Spitfires?"

"Well, there's Liz Beurling, but she's a real jackass and she smokes like a chimney on top of it. "Adolfine pondered out loud while rubbing her chin. Shuddering while recollecting said Witch's last encounter with herself. "Have you smelled someone after they've been through three packs of ration cigarettes? Plus, she drinks like a fish and it's not good booze she hankers over at that. Damn the Britannians and their warm beer."

The younger Witch was about to protest that most of her older sisters happen to enjoy a pint of the much maligned warm beer when the door burst open which was followed swiftly by the sight of Yoshika Miyafuji landing a jump kick smack in the middle of Adolfine's face. Sending the Karsland general flying into the side of the room, Yoshika pointed her finger at the now prone general and trembled in rage and indignation.

"How dare you have your minion kidnap Lynne-chan so you can have your sick, perverted ways with her! I won't let you fulfil your hot sweaty fantasies of rubbing Lynne's boobies while burying your face between them all night long and other unmentionable stuff which I will not spell out." The young Fusoan thundered out at the perceived abductor of her friend who responded with a single groan of pain.

"Yoshika! General Galland is a tad...strange but she really only wants to talk about the Spitfires. You know, the planes and Strikers?" Lynne went up to her friend's side. Yoshika blinked in surprise at the Britannian's defence of her alleged kidnapper and remarked, "Talking about Spitfires? Well, I've never heard it called THAT before."

"Yoshika-chan, she really didn't mean any harm."Sighed Lynne before she narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Speaking of which, what's that I heard of rubbing my boo...boo...breasts and burying your face in them?" The Fusoan bulged out her eyes in fear as she realised her slip. "Eh heh heh."

"Nervous laughter is not getting you out of this one, Yoshika." The Britannian Witch stated firmly as she folded her arms. Before she could continue her interrogation further, Perrine and Amelie choose this time to pop their heads into the room and the blonde asked out loud, "Is it over yet? Has that racoon dog Miyafuji murdered a superior general in a sordid tale of lust and passion? Do I need to get my torn and blood soaked sheets changed?"

"Stop being a drama queen, Perrine." Yoshika said, grateful for the distraction. A groan emitting from the corner of the room caused the Fusoan eyes to widen in realization and her face to pale. "General Galland! Oh no!"

The semi conscious general simply groaned in reply.

* * *

The _Prince_ _Myshkin_ is your typical cargo bearing vessel that carried all sorts of cargo in and out of the Docklands in London. The vessel itself was unassuming, rusting on the sides with peeling paint and looking much like the several hundred other ships of dubious ownership and legality leaving the ports of Britannia in the cool air of a late summer evening. The foghorn of the _Prince Myshkin_ blared out in a steady rhythm as the mists descended upon the waters, making even simple navigation a grave undertaking as visibility plunged and many a sailor onboard grumbled that it was clearer to look into the pea soup like waters of the Thames. The evening breeze carried both the thick smell of the river and other far less pleasant odours. Denizens plying their trade near the waters learnt quickly not to take too deep a breath.

On nights like this, when the clouds were looming and grey turning the sky a uniform inky black, it wasn't uncommon for passengers, crews and stowaways to suddenly disappear from the ship's logs. With the fog settling in with the passing of summer, no one aboard saw anything or heard anything, what with the din of the sailors going about their duties, the loud roar of the ship's engines and the dammed horn sounding off.

Of course, even if it was dead still in the middle of the night where you could hear a pin drop, no one on board ships like this heard or saw anything. Suicide rates among those who see or hear too much is astronomical and coroners classify any death linked to hearing or seeing too much as suicide.

Some cargo onboard the _Prince Myshkin_ would be due for reputable ports around the world with all papers in place and accounted for. Other less savoury shipments onboard was due for a trip down to Davey Jones locker either by design or because the cargo was leaking like a badly wrapped butcher's package. It would come as no surprise however to some of the predators that created the bloody leaking mess initially to hear them being described as butchers though. Some of them do ply a legitimate trade in the art of cutting up pieces of animal carcass and were rather proud of their handy work though they stretch the definition of animal to anything that bleeds when a knife is put to it.

Alexander Mykonos was one such individual. Hailing from Crete, Mykonos was a butcher turned sailor after the supply of meat dried up and his business went bust. Not that he had a very profitable business as his attention usually more focused on causing trouble and being a general menace in his village. When the Neuroi arrived and started tearing everything up, he joined the village militia but had to flee to prevent his supposed comrades in arms from shooting him in his sleep, most of them having grudges real or imagined though Mykonos conceded it probably was his fault one way or another.

The rogue sailor was of a heavy built, standing around 185 centimetres and weighing around a hundred and twenty kilos, most of it muscle covered in a layer of fat. Thick callused hands, thick greasy mop of black hair and a fake gold chain across his unshaven neck matched with a misshapen nose due to a bar fight. He had protruding teeth and bloodshot eyes made him look very intimidating to most upstanding citizens who never had a violent confrontation in their lives.

The rogue sailor tended to use his intimidating appearance to shakedown most of his marks when on shore leave and sometimes engage in outright robbery. If said target was female, Mykonos would then get some...other bonuses out of that encounter before finding not so gainful employment among the more disreputable ships that called at every port in the world.

Mykonos was after close to three decades of preying on the innocent an established and savvy criminal and picked his targets well. Yet for all his experience in choosing the correct victim (ones that aren't a credible threat or would invite instant and painful retribution) put together, the rogue sailor simply couldn't comprehend how this latest encounter was rapidly turning out to be possibly his last.

The target he had chosen was a petite girl of less than 160 centimetres and probably one third of his weight. She was dressed in a fashionable coffee brown mink coat with a white furry collar, wearing pearl earrings and a pair of matching grey mittens. The mark had shoulder length silvery blue hair combed into a simple braid and was wearing a pair of knee length dark brown boots with two inch heels. Mykonos noticed high cheek bones when he observed her face from the side and long eyelashes and emerald green eyes, sharp elfin nose with thin pale lips. Her skin was fair almost to the point of being translucent and Mykonos swore he could almost see the blood veins near her almond shape eyes because of said fair skin.

All in all, a typical portrait of a upper class princess who was probably on the run, looking more at home in some fine luxury cruiser rather than a seedy dumping ground for society's dregs like the _Prince Myshkin_. Mykonos had licked his lips in anticipation of the screaming he was sure to hear from her when he ravaged her and took _everything_ of worth from her.

Her innocence, her money she had undoubtedly lifted from daddy's drawers and the fancy kit she had on could fetch a handsome price with the right pawnshops while the girl herself if not too broken can fetch quite a bundle too. The rogue sailor could barely contain himself or believe his good fortune. In a corner of his mind, there was a long forgotten voice screaming faintly at Mykonos to **RUN! RUN AND NEVER LOOK BACK!**

Alexander Mykonos ignored it. The voice reminded him of his conscience, something he had long ago snuffed out. It was something just as annoying but far more useful particularly when it comes to keeping him alive. It was Prudence speaking to him, but Greed and Lust tonight was far louder.

The thug swaggered up to his intended victim with a leer on his face when a bright sphere of light flashed across his eyes and he felt pain like a thousand nails ripping out from under his skin at once as the light washed over him.

The rogue sailor felt himself thrown into the air before crashing onto the deck with a loud thud. As pain wracked his body, the same invisible force grabbed him and threw him back midair before he was smacked down again in the very same spot he was thrown into initially. Guessing his not so helpless victim was the source of his torments, he turned to view the girl with bloodied eyes and noticed her eyes were now orbs of glowing white flame and her limbs crackled with silver white bolts of crackling lighting. The ground around her glowed with magical circles and Alexander Mykonos realised he should have listened to Prudence.

_Magic. Fucking figures the dressed up little princess on MY ship turns out to be a magical bundle of hot fiery death throwing me around like a rag doll,_ thought Mykonos helplessly while his body was slammed repeatedly onto the deck and into the cabin walls.

The sailor lost count of how many times his body made contact forcefully with the floor before he realised whatever force was grabbing him had let go and he was remaining stationary. While he was unable to feel or move himself, at the very least the invisible hand had ceased trying to reshape his body through liberal use of throwing to the floor like a baker kneads and throws a stubborn lump of dough onto the table to get the desired shape.

The thug was about to thank his lucky stars that he may actually make it through this ordeal before he noticed a heeled boot coming straight towards his face.

* * *

The slim figure making her way to the observation deck of the _Prince Myshkin_ caught the attention of almost all the other passengers on board. Dressed in a royal purple silk shirt with embroidered phoenixes soaring out of a burning cloud, the stranger wore her hair in a single chest length braid tied with gold string and a pair of simple black pants that failed to conceal a pair of slim thighs and legs that showed only a hint of muscle. A newsboy cap shielded her eyes from prying eyes but her visible facial features showed prominent cheek bones, thin cherry lips and delicate chin. Her cheeks carried a faint shade of pink that contrasted with almost snow white skin on her neck and rest of the face. Standing at 170 centimetres, she was tall for her gender and race but the way she carried herself endowed her with an aura of delicate fragility like a brittle glass sculpture.

A pair of gold and emerald coloured broadswords hanging from her waist seemed to lend an aura of menace to the stranger, but the tassels hanging out from the pommel at the end of the handle and the intricate designs on said handles seemed to signify that the blades were more of a decorative accessory. The owner of said weapons was walking softly towards her destination when the familiar crunching sound of footwear meeting flesh reached her ears. Muttering under her breath, the figure increased her pace to the source of the noise. It was subtle when her stance changed, but the effects were anything but as her purposeful strides and confident posture banished any hints of vulnerability and replaced them with the confident gait of a tigress on the prowl. Hungry eyes which had previously been sizing her up as prey averted their gaze immediately as their senses informed that this was not prey.

_She would lose all sense of self and knowledge where she is after she gets into a killing mood. Best to let her get it out of her system so I can debrief her properly and without undue delay_, thought the purple clad figure resignedly as she moved to observation deck where the sound of violence was coming from.

As she finished climbing the stairs, her eyes were finally able to make out the silhouette of a younger female in a mink coat repeatedly arching her right leg back before unleashing a swift kick into a man several times her size. Upon closer inspection, the purple clad newcomer noticed that the victim's face was quite literally a bloody mess and she could barely make out where the mouth and other facial features used to be.

The swordswoman suppressed a yawn as she stretched her arms while waiting for the younger looking female to get bored with her new punching bag.

_She must be getting soft if I can still tell where his eyeballs were supposed to be. Usually, she won't leave the shape of the skull intact_, mused the purple clad swordswoman.

The steady drumbeat of boot meeting skull started to slow down before grinding to a halt as the silver haired girl noticed her guest who was politely waiting for her to finish up. A slight sheen of sweat was visible on her forehead as she turned towards the swordswoman, her eye sockets glowing with white flame.

"Ah, Portia! You've made it. Quickly, we must get to Damascus before the mob catches us! They seem pretty upset over the pigs that went leaping off the cliffs." The silver haired girl then removed her foot from her victim's face and tore out a relatively clean portion of his shirt as a rag to wipe away the blood and stray bits of bone. She had spoken with a clear and lively voice more suited to the quiet conversation between schoolgirls at a prestigious boarding school rather than one who unleashed stark brutality that she had indulged in moments ago.

The purple clad swordswoman blinked at the seemingly non-sequitur greeting before replying in a long suffering tone. It was apparent it was not the first time the silver haired girl had spaced out completely, "It is now the 28th July and the year is 1945. I am Wan Rong, your servant from the Jin Empire."

As if someone had turned off the gas main, the fires in the eyes snuffed out, replacing it with lush green irises. The silver haired girl smacked her fist against and open palm and smiled triumphantly, "So, that's what I forgot. It was the date!" Blinking, she placed a finger on her lips in a look as she hummed before continuing. "What about the pigs though? I know we aren't supposed to eat them but it seemed like such a waste to let the sea have them even if they leapt off a cliff."

_Among other things you've forgotten, O illustrious leader of mine_, thought the swordswoman as she chooses to ignore the question posed by her leader. Times like this make Wan Rong question the wisdom in pledging fealty to the seemingly scattered brain girl she was addressing, which can and does completely goes off into a world of her own.

The swordswoman cleared her throat to get the attention of the silver haired girl who was already beginning to show signs of having her train of thought being derailed. "The Covered Eye, my Prophetess." Upon seeing that she finally had the silver haired girl's full attention, Wan Rong continued her report. "We've made contact with the Covered Eye, and she has awoken due to contact with the Crystals and was successfully brought into the Other Side. We did not however..."

"Secure the Covered Eye as I had expected you would fail to, I know. Then again, I already did know before you set off. It would explain why you enter my presence empty handed, Warmistress. "Ignoring the wince at her apparent subordinate's mention of her title and expected failure, the prophetess continued."Still, you had performed your expected duties admirably, Rong-er. I now have another task for you. It promises to be more... pleasant."

_Rong-Er- my child Rong_. The thought of the younger looking prophetess using the term of endearment her people reserved for younger loved ones should have chafed at her. Had the swordswoman not been serving the silver haired girl for a decade and a half and not witness the girl...no woman in front of her age a single day, looking as youthful as the day she met her when she herself was only on the cusp of puberty, she most likely would have been grievously insulted.

"I hear and I obey, Prophetess Eva." The purple clad swordswoman knelt down as she awaited her orders. Wan Rong suspected that the name given by the prophetess was likely to be a pseudonym, but Wan Rong was not one to probe into the personal matters of others needlessly. Not for lack of effort of her part to find out more of course, but every attempt turned up a dead end and her cat's paws dead. It was as if the silver haired woman had appeared out of tin air fifteen years ago when she first appeared in Nanjing, warning of death from the skies.

At least it was less obvious than the Fusoan scientist who calls himself Professor Hakase. Even with her rusty knowledge of Fusoan, anyone calling themselves Professor Professor was making both a transparent disguise AND horrible pun. Their most recent addition to their conspiracy had his face burnt beyond recognition but his dietary habits and speech patterns identified himself as a member of that hated island nation of midgets.

The eyes of Eva were replaced by gouts of white flame once more as eldritch lighting danced across her fingertips. As she spoke, it was not the clear voice of a teenage girl but reverberating otherworldly tones that was pitch perfect, cold, imperious and ancient. "The Seeing Eye has noticed and will soon send her minions to sniff us out. It is too early and yet the Covered Eye has not awakened fully. Beware of interlopers, my vision is not clear enough but it tells me enough that they WILL be there."

Cocking her head in the direction of her now lifeless victim, Wan Rong recognised the signs that her leader may be losing interest soon. Her intervention however was not needed as the prophetess continued, "Go to Paris and there, bring the Covered Eye over to the other side once again. I have seen her awaken- fully- this time and you will have Witches to assist you, rather than the puppets you were provided with last time." The silver haired prophetess then picked up the limp body of Mykonos in a fireman's carry, frowned at the way the blood of her victim was staining her jacket before dropping the corpse to the floor, opting to drag it to the side of the ship and casually tossing it overboard.

As the loud splash which was not heard by anyone at all echoed through the night, Eva remarked disinterestedly as her eyes were once again emerald green, "I just can't stand litterbugs."

Deciding it was not prudent to point out dumping a corpse into the Thames does count as littering, the swordswoman decided to satisfy her curiosity. "Other than being an all round eye sore, what did that man do?"

"He approached me from behind menacingly, likely having a weapon on his person and probably counting on the fact a young prepubescent girl all by her lonesome was easy prey."

Nodding in understanding, Wan Rong asked, "And that's when you decided to end his miserable existence and kicked him to death?"

Shaking her head, the prophetess replied, "I did not kill him by kicking him to death, as satisfying as it would have been."

Pointing her index finger at the pea soup below, "The impact when he was thrown into the water will give him a concussion and likely cause him to drown." Smiling brightly like a child showing off her art homework to a proud parent, Eva continued, "It is the water that will kill him."

Nodding idly, Wan Rong started playing with her braids before freezing halfway. The silver haired prophetess was staring intently at the bridge of the ship and was sporting a wide eyed grin. It was a grin that the swordswoman was very familiar with when her leader's childlike aspect took over and her inhibitions are thrown to the wind. If no action is taken soon, Wan Rong will be swimming to Europe.

"Prophetess Eva," stated the older looking woman curtly.

Pouting, the childlike prophetess stared at Wan Rong, recognising the tone that signalled she was going to be denied something, "But it'd be fine! I've seen you swim further lengths then one miserable channel before."

"No." The swordswoman retorted clearly. Deciding that a quick distraction was needed, she pointed out, "There are plenty of low lives like the one you just tossed into the water on this ship. Why not find some more? It'd be like hide and seek and you're it. You can even experiment to see if some of them will last longer."

"On the other hand, if I sink it there won't be any more of them to hunt down and play with."Turning to the swordswoman with a smile, you're so smart! I knew there's a reason you're my bestest friend, Rong-Rong!" Beaming, she nodded happily as she imagined the many ways to inflict pain on her new...companions. Humming a merry tune, the prophetess began skipping deeper into the ship.

When the _Prince Myshkin_ called at Amsterdam several hours later, a harried phone call was made to the police before it was quarantined off and a police guard was posted around it. Rumours of a ship that was crewed with nothing but corpses led to many a suspicious sailor to trade tales of a ghost ship manned by a crew of the dead.

* * *

Author's notes.

I was planning to make the chapter to extend onto the date in Paris itself, but before I realised it, it was reaching close to nine thousand over words, and decided breaking it up into two parts will make for easier reading. Plus, I feel more regular updates will make writing it a less of a chore and those of you following the story easier rather than waiting months on end.

A note on the usage of ranks and it's something I should have addressed earlier. Shirley, Barkhorn and the Fuso Witches are addressed by Captain and ranks as Squadron Leader and Flight anything is reserved for RAF and several Commonwealth countries. Shirley is Liberion Army Air Corps and the Luftwaffe and the Free French or Free Gallian use army ranks so you may notice only Britannian RAF Lynne gets addressed with RAF ranks. Fuso Navy doesn't seem to have exclusive ranks at all and literal translations of their ranks in kanji have little difference from Army counterparts other than adding navy at the beginning. Terms like Admiral and Captain in the naval sense will be used mostly to address English speaking conventions.

L'Entrecôte Porte-Maillot is one of the more iconic restaurants in Paris famous for their steak and fries though the real life version did not open till the mid fifties. Le Champo is one of their older and iconic theatres and is dated back to the pre-war (as in World War 2) period.

Brownie points if you can guess Eva's likely origin. Hint, Damascus refers to the current Syrian capital and I doubt there are too many tales of pigs hurtling themselves off cliffs like lemmings.

Hate it? Love it? Please R and R especially on my OCs and if they are interfering with the plot of the story too much. Neuroi as antagonists seemed a tad faceless, the X-9 Neuroi witches notwithstanding.

The Jin Empire incidentally is the expy of the Qing Dynasty, the last Chinese dynasty. Going by their history, most of the old empires did not crumble at the end of the First Neuroi War. The Jin or Later Jin is the old name for the later Manchu Qing Dynasty.

Until next time then.

**Chapter 7: Date in the City of Lights Part 2**

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